


Season Three

by blazingskies2970



Series: Shameless Rewrite: Partner, Lover, Family [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Beads, And they love their daughter, Babies, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, Kid Fic, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Ned/Lloyd is a slease, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Post Mpreg, Shameless (US) Season Three, Smut, Terry Milkovich Being an Asshole, Top Ian Gallagher, roughly follows cannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 79,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazingskies2970/pseuds/blazingskies2970
Summary: Now that they're living together, Fiona struggles to accept the new boring Jimmy; Lip begins to feel smothered by Mandy when she becomes involved in his life; Mickey and Ian work out how to raise Aileen together and still be teenagers; Debbie gets bullied at the public pool, and Frank convinces Carl he has cancer.
Relationships: Fiona Gallagher/Jimmy Lishman, Ian Gallagher & Mandy Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Kev Ball/Veronica Fisher, Lip Gallagher/Mandy Milkovich, Mandy Milkovich & Mickey Milkovich
Series: Shameless Rewrite: Partner, Lover, Family [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978276
Comments: 184
Kudos: 211





	1. El Gran Canon

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said January, but she's here early. Enjoy! I changed the summary of season 2 to be more like the actual Shameless summaries, like I did with this one's.

It seems like Chicago only has two seasons- winter and summer. It’s only April 10th, but the sun is already shining and the Gallaghers have already put away their winter clothes. Not to mention April 10th at 8 am in the morning, but Ian’s almost sweating in his uniform. It’s a fucking nice day out, with a warm, spring breeze and the birds chirping. He and Lip smoke a cigarette between them as they head towards the University of Chicago. 

Every year, Lip goes bot fighting in the Geek Arena, and every year he loses, but this time, he’s determined to win. Of course his design involves a high-tech laser that he doesn’t have and can’t make, which leaves stealing as their only option. 

Ian’s blood runs high as they near the university. Mickey had told him it was a bad idea, and- “Jesus Christ, can you please not get thrown in juvie?”- while feeding Aileen her bottle. Ian had just promised Mickey they wouldn’t get caught, and kissed Aileen goodbye before leaving with Lip. 

It seems like each day she’s getting bigger, and she never fails to amaze Ian. She just learned how to roll over a few days before, and has become even more mobile, and now at least one person has to keep an eye on her at all times. She’s starting to make more noise now, too, not actual babble, but coos and grunts and whimpers. Ian would spend every single second with his daughter if he could, but life doesn’t work that way, and Lip was too fucking caught up in the wonders of a piece of metal to even think about silent alarms. 

Which is why Ian and Lip are now running as fast as they can away from the University of Chicago campus police. 

“Go, go, go, go!” Lip shouts as Ian throws his entire body against the main doors. They burst open, and now they’re in direct sunlight, the case with the laser that Lip’s holding swinging wildly. 

“When you said you had access to the building, I thought you meant through a door,” Ian snaps back at him. He can hear the campus police behind them, shouting at them to stop.

Lip smacks a branch out of his way. “Yeah, I may have fudged on that a bit.”

Ian swings his backpack on his shoulders as they run down stairs, swerving around slow people. He jumps down the last few steps, students pausing to give them weird looks. They pelt across a parking lot, then come upon a fence that marks the edge of the university’s property. 

“Jesus, whatever happened to fat, donut-eating cops,” Lip remarks as Ian throws himself at the fence, grabbing the top and scrambling his legs up. “Now they’re all triathletes.” Ian swings one leg over, then jumps down on the other side, catching the case Lip throws at him. 

Lip scales the fence, and the cops don’t waste any time but slam down the piece of wood that had been bolted into the fence in place of a gate. Ian and Lip make their way down an alleyway, heading back to the Southside, and Lip shouts, “Ditch ‘em down at the street, yeah?”

Ian spies a fire exit staircase folded up and conveniently underneath a truck bed, and skids to a stop. “Wait, wait, wait, maybe they’ll give up.”

“What are you doing?” Lip demands as Ian climbs on the truck and jumps up, grabbing the edge of the metal stairs, but he takes too long and Lip disappears behind a rusty door. Ian follows after his brother, and they run up two flights of stairs before coming out on the rooftops. They slam into the edge of the roof, only to see the top of the next building, a whole level beneath them. 

“Woah!” Lip lets out as they stare down at it. “There’s no way West Point takes you with a felony conviction,” he says, glancing at Ian. Ian makes up his mind and jumps up on the edge of the roof, balancing on the balls of his feet. 

“Hey!” he hears one of the police shout from behind him. “Don’t be stupid!”

“Catch you at the courthouse later?” he says to Ian, who’s grinning from the adrenaline rushing through his veins. 

And then he jumps. 

He lands with his knees bent and rolls onto his shoulder, shoving himself up with his hands, then whirls around to Lip, who’s leaning over, holding the briefcase up. 

“Call Mandy, alright?” Lip shouts down to him. “Milkoviches gotta have a good bail bondsman.” Then he tosses the case down at Ian, who catches it and gives him a wave before running off. Ian runs until his lungs burst and he’s deep enough into the Southside that fancy campus police wouldn’t dare to follow him. Sure enough, he’s lost them. He adjusts his grip on the briefcase and checks his watch. It’s 8:45, which means he’s missing 1st period, but he doesn’t care. 

Ian takes his cap off and rubs a hand on his buzzed hair. Mickey had cut his hair for him a week prior, in preparation for ROTC starting. He swings his backpack on his front as he walks, slipping the case and his hat in. Next, he shrugs off his jacket and shoves that in there, too. He’s sweating from the sun and the exercise, but thankfully he doesn’t have gym today to get him even more gross. 

He takes his time walking back to school and makes it in before his 2nd period class at 9:30, history with Mandy. 

“How was your excursion with Lip?” she asks him when he takes his seat behind her.

“Fine,” Ian responds, grinning. “What’s the name of your bail bondsman, by the way?”

***

“He just walks in, doesn’t even bother to knock,” Fiona complains to V as she goes over to her house before work to look for duct tape.

“That’s nothing,” V says. She’s sewing up some piece of clothing. “Last night, Kev waltzes in, does his sit-down business while I’m taking a bath”

“Only one bathroom, had to go,” Kev calls from the living room, where he’s working out. 

“We have another bathroom, but Jimmy can’t be bothered to go downstairs,” Fiona says. She had originally thought that living with Jimmy would be rainbows and unicorns, but she’s starting to get really pissed off with her boyfriend as of late. 

“Kev once did his poopy business while I was brushing my teeth,” V throws in.

“Only one bathroom!”

“Can I steal some of this?” Fiona asks, holding up the duct tape that she finally found. 

“Sure,” V replies. 

Fiona slams the drawer in their kitchen and moves over to sit down next to V. “Yesterday I caught him vacuuming and watching _Rachael Ray_.”

“Kev don’t even know what a vacuum is,” V says and Fiona sits down with a sigh. 

“Sure I do,” Kev throws in as he makes his way into the dining room on forearm crutches, then starts talking about outer space. “Nice overalls,” he adds to Fiona. 

“$14.50 an hour,” Fiona reports. “You haven’t lived ‘till you’ve vacuumed up toxic waste.” After getting her GED, she was able to get a better job, if a better job was working at a sewage cleaning company. She hikes one foot up on the opposite leg, and starts to duct tape her pants to her boots. 

“Hey, what do you think,” Kev says, stripping off his shirt. “Am I camera ready or what?” He flexes, and Fiona and V catcall him. 

“The topless web traffic is way down, too many girls ironing,” V explains. “If we’re gonna have a kid, I need to save up money for when my tits are the size of watermelons.” 

After having their Amish foster kid running away, Kev and V have been trying for a kid like bunny rabbits, despite V’s tract infection.

V goes into the kitchen to grab scissors, and Fiona calls after her, “There’s probably a market for pervs who want to see a woman nursing.”

“Kev’s worried our kid might find these online one day,” V says as she strips off her shirt. 

“Shit on the net never goes away,” Kev says. “Kev Jr.’s gonna be surfing the net for porn one day and see mama’s big titties and get hungry.”

“So, we’re trying a new web thing.” V tries on the shirt she was just sewing, if it can even be called that. It’s more of a… long bra. 

“Couple act. Master and slave.” Kev grabs a whip and cracks it.

“You gonna do it in a cast?” Fiona asks, peering at his leg. 

“Hey, man’s gotta eat,” he responds. 

“That is so wrong,” Fiona says, staring at the contrast between V’s dark skin and Kev’s paleness. 

“It’s educational,” V says seriously. “By acting out a scene from the old plantation, we’re providing content for an internet audience that embraces a truthful reenactment of our past.”

“It’s _racist_ and wrong,” Fiona says, appalled that Kev and V would ever stoop this low. 

“Which is why it’s going to make money, because this country is racist,” Kev says. 

V seems to notice for the first time that Fiona’s duct taping her pants, and nods to her. “What’s that all about?”

“The place we were working yesterday had a couple billion fleas,” Fiona says. “Jimmy doesn’t really do anything. He just hangs around the house all day with Liam and Aileen, making smoothies, acting like he’s the kids’ new dad.”

“He watches Aileen, too?” V asks. 

“Yeah, Mickey went back to work full time,” Fiona responds. 

“So he’s vacuuming, cooking, and changing dirty diapers, and you’re still pissed,” Kev says. “I thought that’s what you ladies wanted, a share in the housework, wage equality, and all the Hunger Games, Lady Gaga, girl power shit.”

“We say it, but we don’t mean it,” V says, her hands on her hips. She turns to Fiona. “There is nothing sexy about a man with a mop!” V tells her that he’ll stop being boring soon, and then disappears upstairs, and Kev cracks his whip, making her jump. 

Fiona wants… fuck it, Fiona wants a relationship like Ian and Mickey. It’s stupid she knows, being jealous of her little brother, but they always seem to be laughing with each other. In fact, the only time Fiona’s even seen them fight was when Ian bought the wrong diapers for Aileen, but he quickly returned them and bought new ones. 

Ian and Mickey also have more sex than she and Jimmy do. They never seem to have time, but it seems like all her brother and his boyfriend do is fuck. They were taking too long in the bathroom one time, only to come out with messy hair and swollen lips. Debbie plays with Aileen when they aren't around, telling Fiona that Ian and Mickey are trying to be “productive” when she asks. Fiona knows what that means, of course. And just the other day, she walked in on Ian’s face buried in Mickey’s ass while she was looking for dirty laundry. She washed her eyeballs out with soap later. 

But it seems that no matter how many times they fuck, they also have time for their daughter, as well. It’s like Ian and Mickey have 50 hours in their day, and Fiona only has 10. After finishing duct taping her pants, she bids goodbye to Kev and V and good luck on their new porno, and leaves for her shit job. Literally. 

***

It’s warm, despite being early spring in Chicago. Mickey takes off his jacket as he walks leisurely home from work, letting the sunlight warm his face. He would take this weather over snow any day, thank you very much. 

It was been fucking hell at the Kash N’ Grab today. The warmer weather meant that people had ventured out of their houses and had gone to buy beer, snacks, smokes, and whatever the hell else. Mickey had caught a total of 4 people trying to shoplift that day. 

But thankfully he had prepared for it. He had been recently bulking up again, taking long walks with Aileen in the stroller to _finally_ lose some of the baby weight (Ian had said that having a kid in the middle of winter hadn’t helped with that) and starting to do weights again with the barbells he brought over from the Milkovich house sometime in February. He had lost muscle mass, but thankfully it didn’t take him long to bulk back up again, although now he’s nowhere near as strong as he was before Aileen, mainly because all he had to do back then was workout, whereas now he has to look after a 4-month-old. 

Ian’s gotten stronger, as well, partly because he had received news in March that if he worked hard at Junior ROTC this year, he could become a Cadet General next year, and partly because Mickey stashed the weights in their bedroom. Ian’s looking fucking good as of late. Mickey buzzed his head for ROTC, and though he misses running his hands through Ian’s long hair, he has to admit, the short hair, the bulky biceps, and the uniform he often comes home in does things to Mickey. 

The weather and the knowledge that Mickey can just go home and play with Aileen is doing things to him, and he fucking _waves_ and some old lady walking her dog across the street from the Gallager house. She throws him a weird look instead of waving back, but whatever. 

Mickey enters the house, expecting to see Jimmy crashed on the couch with Aileen and Liam, but it’s bare. 

“Jimmy?” he calls upstairs, frowning. Then he hears Debbie answer him from the kitchen. She’s at the table, with Aileen on her lap, and no Jimmy in sight. 

“Where the fuck is he?” Mickey asks, holding his hands out to take Aileen from her. Aileen reaches her arms out while Mickey settles her on his chest and she wraps her arms around his neck with a soft coo. 

Debbie shrugs. “He wasn’t here when Carl and I got home.”

Mickey glances around. Liam’s in his high chair, snacking on some cheerios, and he holds one up when he sees Mickey looking at him, like he’s offering it to him. 

“What about the kids?” he asks, taking the cheerio from Liam, who claps his hands together. 

“Liam was watching TV and Aileen started crying when she saw me.”

Mickey does a double take. “She what now?”

“I just changed her diaper and she stopped, though,” Debbie replies, getting up and going over to the fridge for a drink. “She was fine.”

“So Jimmy was just gone?” Mickey confirms, and Debbie nods. 

“Left the door open. He didn’t even bake cookies.”

Mickey pats Aileen on her back and she squirms in his hold, clearly desperate for attention, and stares around at the kitchen. It’s unlike Jimmy to leave in the middle of the day without notice- despite the warmer weather, he had been staying in the house, looking after the kids, with no complaints. After living in the Southside, he’s learned that disappearing and leaving your door open probably means you were kidnapped, but who the fuck would want to kidnap Jimmy? Besides the car thief thing, he’s probably the most boring person Mickey’s ever met. But he doesn’t want to worry Debbie with that, so he just says, “Well, I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” and heads towards his bedroom. 

He places Aileen on her tummy on their bed and she kicks her feet a little, her eyes following Mickey as he grabs the fluffy bunny he and Ian got her for Christmas last year. Her tongue pokes out as squirms, clearly recognizing the toy. Mickey brings it closer to her and dances it in front of her face. 

“You see Mr. Bunny?” he coos, and she shoves her feet against the bed, trying to rock herself forward to get to the stuffed animal, but she hasn’t got a whole lot of coordination, so she doesn’t make it off her tummy an inch. 

Mickey brings the bunny closer to her face and gently touches their noses together, and Aileen squeals. He does it again, and she lets out a full giggle. 

“Are you laughing?” Mickey says in a high-pitched voice that he would kill himself over if anyone besides Ian heard him say. 

“Uh!” Aileen lets out, her head tilting further back to stare up at Mickey, and he can’t help but smile at her huge, blue eyes. 

“Hi, princess,” he says softly and gets on the bed next to her, pulling her into his lap. He sits her up on her rump, holding her by her armpits. She reaches her arms out towards him, blinking, and he knows what she wants. He leans down and presses his nose to her forehead, breathing in her strawberry soap Ian bought for her. 

“I love you,” he coos, drawing out the “you,” and he presses a sloppy kiss to her forehead, causing her to squeal again. “Papa should be home soon- yes he should! And they all of us can play.” 

She shoves her fist in her mouth and focuses her attention back on the bunny, so Mickey grabs it for her and holds it near her. She reaches out with her other fist, stroking the bunny’s ears. She can’t quite grab onto them yet, but she’s getting pretty good at hand-eye coordination, so Mickey knows that isn’t too far off. 

“Ah,” she says around her fist as she opens and clenches her fingers, trying to grab onto the stuffed animal. 

Ian isn’t home soon. When he was ROTC after school, he’s usually home by 4, but he gets back nearly an hour later, following Mandy and Lip. Jimmy’s still missing, and Fiona works later now because of Jimmy, so Mickey had to keep Carl, Debbie, and Liam entertained as well as his own daughter by himself, and he’s pissed. 

“Where the fuck were you?” he demands to the 3 of them, Aileen perched on his hip.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Ian says, walking over and kissing Aileen when she notices him and starts to burble. “We had to bail Lip out of holding.”

Mickey swivels his head around to glare at Lip. “What, you got caught stealing that piece of shit?” When Ian had told him that he and Lip were going to try and steal some laser for a robot Lip was trying to build, Mickey thought he had been joking, but apparently not. "You need to work on your style, man."

Lip shrugs. “Yeah, but all thanks to Mandy, I’m now a free man.” He leans over and tries to kiss his girlfriend, but she ducks away. 

“I’m still pissed at you,” she snaps at him. She stomps up the stairs and Lip follows on her heels. Mickey rolls his eyes. They’re probably gonna bang. 

Ian takes Aileen from Mickey and collapses on the couch, placing her on his lap facing him. He takes her wrist in his hands and starts to wave them around, making stupid baby noises. Mickey loves it. 

“Hey, I’ve been thinking,” Ian says when Mickey sits down next to him. “We should get her one of those bouncy seats that has a shitton of lights and dangly things that she can look at. Supposed to be good for development and whatever, and we sold the one Liam used to use.”

Aileen turns to stare at Mickey while she’s on Ian’s lap, and lets out an “Ah!” as if agreeing with him. 

“Yeah, because we have the money for that,” Mickey scoffs. 

“Aw, c’mon, it’ll be good for her!”

Mickey runs a hand through his hair. “What the fuck ever. How was ROTC?”

“Eh, okay,” Ian replies, then coos at Aileen. “We did classroom shit today. It was super fucking boring. All I wanted to do was be back here.”

“I know what you mean, man,” Mickey says. “Felt antsy sitting behind a fucking cash register all day.”

They’re watching TV when Mandy ventures back downstairs, her hair a mess and wearing Lip’s sweater, and announces that she’s going back home for dinner. She says bye to Aileen, then leaves, and Lip comes down after her, carrying the laser he stole from Chicago University. Carl and Debbie are trailing after him, clearly enthralled, and Ian and Mickey follow them into the kitchen, where Lip starts to set up his robot on the table. 

“No way that thing’s going to fucking work,” Mickey says to Ian, who’s setting Aileen in her bassinet as she’s starting to nod off. 

“You’d be surprised,” Ian responds, smirking. 

Fiona comes home then, still wearing her work uniform from her sewer job (Mickey still can’t believe she does it voluntarily). 

“What’s that?” she asks when she spies the robot Lip’s putting together. 

“It’s uh, a miniature Mars rover. I’m mounting a helium neon laser on it,” Lip replies. 

Fiona leans over, frowning. 

“We’re gonna blow shit up with it,” Carl says, and Fiona pokes his cheek. 

“Hey. Language.”

“Oh, hey, final notice on the property tax,” Lip speaks up, grabbing the bill, as Fiona moves away, taking off her bag and nodding at Ian and Mickey. “You going down there tomorrow?”

Fiona hesitates, then turns around and takes the envelope from Lip, then glances around the kitchen. “No dinner?”

“No Jimmy,” Mickey replies, grabbing a beer from the fridge for Ian, then moving over to watch Lip assemble the robot. 

“No cookies after school, either,” Carl says. 

“He wasn’t here when you came home from school?” Fiona asks, sounding confused. 

“No, and his Beamer’s still out front,” says Debbie. “Want me to open a can of tuna?”

“Jimmy wasn’t home?” Ian asks in a low voice to Mickey. 

“Aw, shit, I forget to tell you. No he wasn’t. He left Liam and Aileen alone.”

Ian’s eyebrows raise. “Shit, were they alright?”

Mickey shrugs. “Debbie said they were fine.”

“I bet he got kidnapped,” Lip adds in. “Serves him right, looking like he does and living in this neighborhood.”

Mickey and Ian exchange a glance. That doesn’t sit with Mickey well at all. If Jimmy got kidnapped from his own house, who’s next? 

***

Debbie has a shrine of Frank set up in her room, right by her bed. After Fiona brushes her hair, she goes over to it, says a prayer, then blows out the candle. Fiona tucks her into bed and tries to reassure her. 

“He’ll come back, Debs. Frank’s like scabies. You can’t get rid of him no matter how hard you try.”

Fiona leans down and gives her a kiss on her forehead. She sometimes wishes she had Debbie’s innocence. She’s the only one who still holds onto Frank. Even Carl, who’s a year and a half younger, doesn’t have any faith in his father. 

Fiona snaps off the light and closes her door, making her way into the boys’ room. On her way, she passes by Ian and Mickey’s room. She pauses and listens outside their door, hearing the telltale signs of them settling down for the night. She hears Ian’s low voice as he says something to Aileen. 

Carl’s listening to a walkman and reading magazines when she enters his room, and she signs and walks over, pulling the headphones off his ears. 

“Bedtime,” she says simply, and checks up on Liam while he climbs onto the bunk bed. After Ian moved out of the room, Carl took over Lip’s bed and Lip grabbed Ian’s. She goes over to Lip next, who’s still working on his robot. Behind her, Carl clicks off his lick. Remembering that Lip had mentioned something about Mandy being over early that day, she leans up against the wall and sighs and says, “Mandy. You being smart?” She doesn’t need _another_ pregnancy. 

Lip reaches over into his bedside table and pulls out a row of condoms, letting them fall down until they reach his covers. She studies him as he tinkers with the robot. It’s kind of amazing to see how invested Lip is in this project, because Gallagher kids usually aren’t that invested in anything. 

“I lost my job today,” she says quietly so Carl won’t overhear. 

“What, are you fucking the boss?” Lip quirks. 

Fiona chuckles. “Nah. Nepotism. Nephew.”

“Hey, uh,” Lip starts, then trails off. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “Are we gonna have enough for the property tax bill?”

Fiona nods. “Just, with the check I got today.”

Lip’s quiet, and Fiona takes that as her signal to leave. “Goodnight,” she says, shutting the door behind her. 

She comes downstairs to an empty kitchen, and starts to do the dishes when she notices a strange light outside. It’s Jimmy. He’s back, and he’s burning his clothes.

Fiona moves outside, coming over his left shoulder. “Where ya been?” she asks quietly. She wants to know what the fuck happened with Jimmy, but she doesn’t want to pry, doesn’t want to make him feel like she doesn’t trust him. Because she does. She does, but she’s worried about him. He had been gone all day, it seemed like it, and had left Liam and Aileen unattended. 

“Ah, just ran into a friend, grabbed dinner,” he says, poking his burning clothes with a stick. 

“What are you doing?”

“Just burning my clothes.”

“Why?”

“Ah, you don’t need to know.”

Fiona hums. “I don’t?”

“Nope,” Jimmy responds, shaking his head. He steps out of his boxes, leaving himself completely naked, and tosses them into the fire. Fiona can’t help but stare at his dick.

“I’m gonna shower,” Jimmy says, walking towards the house. Fiona watches him go, but then he stops and turns back around to her. “Scrub my back?”

Fiona stares at him. “You want me to scrub your back?” And okay, maybe she can forget about the fact that he had been AWOL the entire day. She runs towards him, and he scoops her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist. Yeah, she can forget. 

***

Mandy’s with Lip as he makes armor for his robot. He files down huge sheets of metal in intricate waves, and Mandy watches his hands as he does. They talk about random shit, about how Fiona doesn’t like her, and how Aileen can laugh at people now. Then his guidance counselor, some old fart she doesn't know the name of, comes in and starts talking to Lip like she isn’t there. 

Mandy can’t really hear what he says to Lip because of the saw going, but she does catch, “You’re a poor kid from the Southside and you got a 4.6 GPA.”

And _that_ peaks Mandy’s interest. Because if Lip has that high of a GPA, what the fuck is he doing here? He should be filling out college applications and doing volunteer work and talking to people instead of building a fucking robot. Although, she supposes it _will_ get them some money. 

Lip doesn’t take it seriously, as he laughs at his counselor, but she thinks he should be fucking serious about this. She didn’t know he was a genius. She hates seeing wasted potential. It happened to her brother. He was the smartest one in their whole family, the only one who had the slightest chance of not going to prison, and instead he ends up with a baby on his hip.

Well, not that that’s a bad thing- he clearly loves his daughter, and Ian’s very supportive, but he should be back in school instead of stuck behind a cash register all day. 

“Why does everyone think I’m going to college?” Lip says then, and the guidance counselor smacks him on the head with his folder. 

“You are gonna go to college, and you’re going to graduate,” he insists. 

After he leaves, Mandy can’t keep her smile off her face. 

“You got a 4.6?” she asks Lip. “My GPA is like… 1.2.” She moves over to him and studies him. “How smart are you?” He doesn’t reply, just turns the saw back on. 

***

“Why the fuck are we here? It’s full of fucking nerds,” Mickey hisses out to Ian. “I mean, the place is literally fucking called the Geek Arena.”

“Because it’ll win us money,” Ian replies, adjusting his grip on Lip’s robot, which he affectionately named Frank. 

“And we’ll get to see things blow up!” Carl adds, his eyes glowing. Mickey shoots him a look. 

Music is blaring, and Ian can feel the bass rattling through his bones. Lip leads them to the front desk, where the manager of the event, Geoff, sneers at them. 

“Back for yet another round of ritual humiliation, Gallagher?” he chuckles out. Ian directs Carl to set the robot down on a little table that’s pressed up against a wall. The place is crowded and stuffy, and he knows Mickey hates it, by the way he stands rigidly, with his arms crossed. How Ian had convinced him to go tonight, he still has no idea. 

Geoff mocks their money, and Lip replies with, “What’s the matter, Geoff? Afraid a teenager’s gonna kick the shit out of one of your half-assed bucket of bolts?”

Geoff laughs. “Your engineering can’t compete at the black-bot championship trophy level, _Gallagher_.” He ends with a sneer. Ian glances around. There’s a crowd of college kids forming around them, trying to look tough, but Mickey just scoffs at them. Ian almost wishes he had brought his ruger. 

“Who’d you steal your designs from this time? Was it, uh, Carnegie Mellon or MIT?” Lip grabs the form that’s sitting in front of Geoff as the other guy looks around, looking worried. 

“Entry fee’s $150,” he says then. “And we don’t take food stamps.”

Ian turns to pick up Frank again with Carl, while Mandy slaps her money down in the trophy that serves as a collection bin. Lip helps Ian and Carl hold up one end of the robot, and all 5 of them make their way downstairs into the arena. There’s a fight going on already, bots slamming into each other while fans cheer on the sidelines. The only lights are colored spotlights, zooming all around on the ceiling, and it throws everyone’s faces into distortion. 

“What the fuck,” Mickey sighs out, staring around at all the nerds. 

“Piece of cake,” Lip says, leaning over and practically shouting into Ian’s ear to be heard over the music, announcer, and the screaming. 

Ian just nods. Lip’s known to be cocky, but he explained his robot to Ian beforehand, and Ian’s pretty sure they can win. Lip’s a genius, after all. 

Their fight is next, and Lip controls Frank into the ring while Geoff takes his place on the other side. 

“In this corner,” comes the over-the-top announcer. “The terror of Northwestern U- Metalraptor!” The fans on the sidelines scream and cheer. Geoff shows off his robot, making it spin in circles and lift up its claw arm. “And in this corner, representing the Southside, Frank!” Lip’s robot is clunky and jerky in comparison, and the crowd boos and cheers. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get ready to rumble!”

“You owe me a fuck after this,” Mickey hisses into Ian’s ear. Ian shoots a grin at him and can’t resist looping an arm around his waist. Mickey tenses, as he’s never been one to love PDA, but after looking around to see that all the nerds are too invested in the robot battle, he relaxes into Ian’s side. 

The buzzer blares, and the announcer screams, “Let’s battle!” 

Geoff’s robot is the one to move forward, and it lifts Frank by hooking the bottom of its claw underneath Frank’s metal plates. 

“Ooo! Frank is in trouble early!” 

“Drive the fucker off!” Ian shouts at Lip, because what the fuck is he doing? His robot is nowhere near as shiny as Geoff’s, but Lip’s better than this. Lip shoves at his controls, and Frank escapes, doing a lap around the ring while the other robot chases it. But it's faster than Frank, and bangs into it, pushing it against the wall. 

“Get out of there!” Mandy shouts, and Ian’s hands find his mouth. 

“What are you doing?” Frank does another lap, and Ian smacks his brother’s shoulders. “Go!” He wants him to just blast the stupid piece of metal and get it over with. 

“Wait, wait!” Lip shouts back. He drives his robot over to one side of the rink, but it starts to sputter and jerk.

“Oh, looks like Frank is down!” the announcer shouts. 

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey breathes out, and Carl grabs at his short hair. Geoff’s robot starts to approach Frank, and it’s clear that Geoff is toying with him, trying to drag out his death. Lip isn’t even trying with his control; his fingers are at a complete standstill.

“Get out!” Ian shouts over Lip’s shoulder, but he brushes him off. 

“I got it!” he insists. 

Ian can see Geoff’s evil smirk from across the arena, the light throwing it into distortion. Ian hates the ugly fucker. He wants Lip to fucking end him once and for all. He and Mandy are yelling at Lip, and now Carl and Mickey are, too, and Metalraptor is drawing closer and closer and he lifts up his claw to bring it smashing down, and Lip presses a button. 

Geoff’s robot freezes as the high-tech laser Ian and Lip stole from Chicago University hits its heart, right at the base of its claw. The crowd goes quiet as a low buzzing noise starts to build and build and build, and then the robot’s engine explodes. 

The entire side of the arena they’re on throws up their arms and shouts, and Ian can’t help the grin that’s spreading across his face. Mandy kisses Lip and Lip grabs onto Ian’s shoulder as Carl whoops for joy. Ian turns to Mickey to find that he’s grinning, too, and pulls Mickey in to place a filthy, wet kiss on his lips, Mickey’s hands sliding around to his ass. 

All of them turn to Geoff, who’s staring at them in anger, confusion, and disbelief, and they’ve finally _beat that fucker._

They get back home with a fucking huge trophy and Ian can’t help but grab Aileen (Debbie looked after her while they were at the Geek Arena) and and lift her high above his head, dancing as she squeals. 

Lip sets the trophy down right in the middle of the table during dinner time. Jimmy makes spaghetti and garlic bread, and Mandy stays for dinner, and they’re recounting the story of how Lip’s robot blew up Geoff’s to Debbie, Fiona, and Jimmy when Frank comes back. 

Ian notices him first, and can’t help the sinking disappointment when he sees his father. Frank had been gone for 4 months, and Ian had just been getting used to him being gone. Now that he’s back, he’ll probably crash at the house and get up to no good and try to “bond” with Aileen. The rest of the family sees him, and the table gradually goes quiet. 

Debbie’s the first one to break the silence, standing up and running over to Frank with a “Daddy!” She bearhugs him around the middle, and he is pushed backwards by her force. 

Mickey glances over at Ian, and Lip turns back to the table, with a “So…” and continues his conversation with Jimmy, and all the talking starts up again as if Frank isn’t there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That bot fight was a little rough, but ah well. How are we thinking about the first chapter? Comments and kudos make my day!
> 
> Also tea, I finally got twitter!! Love me: https://twitter.com/blazingskies29


	2. The American Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lookie what we got here!”  
> Sam jerks away, and Ian pushes him back to see Mickey, jumping through the poles of the bleachers. There’s a smile on his face, and he looks rather gleeful.   
> “Mickey?” Ian says, confused. Mickey’s supposed to be at home by now. But he doesn't say anything, just walks over and kicks Sam in the balls.   
> 3.02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank's being an asshole, as usual.

Mickey thought he’d seen everything the Gallaghers could throw at him. A meth-dealing grandma, the litter of baby rats in the basement, the cracks in the walls where Carl hides Lip’s porn that he stole. But then one morning, Frank stumbles up to the house, drunk, as usual, and Debbie lets him in, and everyone else completely loses their shit. 

“Go! Go! Go! Upstairs!” Lip shouts, jumping up. 

“Christ, no!” Ian yells, grabbing Aileen and pelting up the stairs.

“What the fuck is going on?” Mickey says, still buttering his toast over by the kitchen counter. 

“Frank’s gonna try and pass out in one of our beds!” Carl shouts helpfully over his shoulder while Frank stumbles in, leaning heavily on Debbie. 

“Ah, Milky, m’boy,” he slurs, and Mickey decides it’s time to get out of there. 

“Aw, hell no,” he grumbles out, and takes the back stairs two at a time just as Ian nearly crashes into Fiona, soaking wet and dressed only in a towel. 

“What’s going on?” Fiona cries out. 

“Frank, drunk, looking for a bed,” Lip explains as he chases Carl into their bedroom. 

Fiona throws her hands up. “Who the hell let him in?”

“Debbie!” 

“We begged her not to,” Ian says. “Mick, help me with the dresser!” 

Aileen’s laughing and clapping her hands together as Mickey and Ian finally manage to scooch their dresser in front of the door.

“Why can’t he sleep out on the porch?” Carl asks. “It’s warm out.”

“I want my old bed back,” Mickey can hear Frank yelling from downstairs. 

“Fat fucking change,” Ian grunts out, shoving the dresser the last few inches into the door frame. “Last time, he slept in my old bed and pissed all over my sheets.”

Frank stumbles up the stairs then, guided by Debbie, who’s holding a bucket for him to barf into. Mickey’s struck with how charming Frank is. 

“Morning, Frank,” Jimmy says from the toilet, with the door to the bathroom wide open. 

“This is my house!” Frank shouts. 

“It’s okay, Daddy, you can sleep in my bed,” Debbie coos. 

“Wouldn’t do it, Debs. He’s especially ripe this morning,” Lip advises, leaning on his dresser. 

“Frank smells like dog piss,” observes Carl, scrunching his nose up. 

“Not dog piss!” Frank slurs. “Gary, the homeless guy.” Then he stumbles over on himself. Debbie sets him up in her room while Mickey settles Aileen in her crib, handing her a rubber duck to play with, then climbs over their dresser after Ian, who's in Debbie's room. 

“Debs, don’t let Frank in here anymore!” Lip snaps at Debbie. 

“This is his home, too!” Debbie insists. 

“He disappeared for months,” Ian states.

“And now he’s back.” Debbie shoves Ian roughly to the side. “ _Excuse_.”

Ian sighs and glances at Mickey. “You’re lucky your dad’s in prison,” he says. They retrieve Aileen from her crib, then make their way back downstairs, where Liam’s waiting, babbling and eating his eggs as if nothing happened. 

“When is it safe to put the dresser back?” Mickey asks, plunking down next to Ian, Aileen on his lap. 

“Uh, probably never,” Lip replies. 

Fiona comes down, sighing and looking stressed, and throws some bills and change down on the table. “Milk money,” she says, patting Carl and Debbie’s heads. 

Mickey bounces Aileen gently, and her fingers grab the table, finding it immensely interesting. 

“Breakfast,” Jimmy says, holding up a plate for Fiona when she moves to the sink. 

“Did you wash up after you pooped?” she retorts. 

“What are you, my mom now?”

“We’re supposed to wash up after we poop?” Carl asks, and no one wants to respond to that. Ian leans over and holds some egg up to Aileen’s nose, but she’s more interested in grabbing Ian’s fingers than the food. 

Mandy comes out of the bathroom then. She had slept over in Lip’s bed last night, and isn’t wearing any pants, per her usual custom. She cups Lip’s ass as he bends over, talking to Liam, and shoots Mickey a grin. He rolls his eyes back at her. 

Fiona isn’t pleased. “Tell your girlfriend to wear clothes, Lip,” she demands. 

“Not her keeper,” Lip responds. 

“Don’t look if you don’t like what you see,” Mandy responds sultrily. 

Mandy bends over and rifles through the laundry, and Carl’s eyes are glued to her ass. “Sweet,” he says, as if in a haze. 

“Pants. Now,” Fiona demands, grabbing a random pair off the floor and throwing them at her. Mandy sneers at her. “Jesus.” 

Mickey scoffs and Aileen lets out a loud “Uh!”

“I know, right?” Ian coos to her. “Aunt Mandy needs to cover up her lady bits.”

“Christ,” Mickey says, rolling his eyes at Ian. Ian just grins at him and pecks him on the cheek. 

“And the last 50 bucks to the property tax!” Lip announces, grabbing the old Squirrel Fund container out of the dishwasher and putting his money in. 

“I didn’t put in the money from that last toxic waste gig I did yet,” Fiona says, packing lunches. 

“Okay, that’s cool. Hand it over and I’ll drop it off after community service; pay the tax man,” Lip replies. Ian stretches his hands above his head and yawns, tired from studying for his chemistry quiz that day. 

“I don’t have it,” Fiona says. Mickey takes another bite of his eggs, watching the drama unfold in front of him. 

“Don’t have what?” Lip asks. 

“The money. I used it to put down a deposit on a club night.” Fiona turns around to glance at Lip, and he just stares back. 

Sensing the tension, Jimmy claps his hands together and breaks the silence. “Alright. Debs, Carl, Ian, let’s go. School time.”

“Gotta bring Daddy his breakfast first,” Debbie says, grabbing an extra plate and the newspapers and heading upstairs. 

“Ah, but the property tax, that’s already two weeks late,” Lip says. 

Fiona grabs Carl’s empty dishes from the table. “We’re always two weeks late. I’ll have the money back right after the party.”

Ian starts to the rest of his eggs in his mouth as Mandy comes down the stairs, thankfully dressed this time. It’s nothing Mickey hasn’t seen- he’s literally grown up with her- but he doesn’t need Fiona and Mandy bitching at each other this morning. 

“Wasn’t yours to spend,” Lip insists. 

“Yeah, it was, I earned it,” Fiona replies. 

“Oh! That’s how we’re doing this now, okay!” Ian stands up, having finished his breakfast, and grabs his cup, heading over to the sink. “Well, I’ll take the money I made last week and buy an iPad. Ian! What are you gonna do with your paycheck, huh? New leather jacket? Liam? Aileen?”

Fiona and Lip argue some more, and Mickey bounces Aileen again as she starts to squirm, upset by all the yelling. Lip crumples up the bills in his hand as Fiona storms away. 

“Will they ever shut up, huh?” Mickey says quietly to Aileen. Ian snuggles her before he leaves, swooping her up and pressing a kiss to her cheek, babbling something to her. Mandy waves bye to her niece, and gives a “See ya later, bitch,” to Mickey before the two of them leave for school. 

Mickey feeds Aileen before work, stepping awkwardly over the dresser that’s still in the middle of their doorway, to reach the solace of their room. He strokes her cheek as she nurses, her big blue eyes blinking up at him. She pops off his nipple when she does, and lets out a big yawn.

“Hey, princess,” he says gently, smiling down at her, and she smiles back, squirming in his hold. “Wanna come to work with me today? You’d make it so much more fucking interesting.”

“Uh,” she says, and it’s settled. He tells Jimmy he’s taking Aileen with him, but the other guy just nods and continues peeking out the window. He shoots Jimmy a glance as he leaves. Maybe he did get kidnapped, or some shit. 

He sets Aileen up behind the cash register in her stroller, and she’s passed out. Linda’s voice comes cracking over the walkie-talkie, demanding to know why he brought his baby there.

“Chill the fuck out. No one could watch her at home,” he lies easily, and Linda shuts up after that. Aileen nurses again during lunch time, as she’s started to develop a nice routine. She’ll probably need to be fed again in a few hours, but right now she’s awake and ready to play. Thank god he brought her bunny.

He sets her on his knee and entertains her with the various items on the counter, after she’s gotten bored with her bunny. She tries to grasp a cigarette package, and she manages to lift it off the table before it slips out of her hands and lands on the table. She startles, her arms jerking up, and Mickey laughs. 

Then the bell on the door tinkles, and some guy enters the shop, causing Mickey to sober up immediately. This guy is dirty and fucking _reeks,_ and he’s carrying a cigaratte in one hand. Mickey stands up and places Aileen in her stroller while keeping one eye on the guy. He stumbles over to the fridge area, reminding Mickey vaguely of Frank. Aileen makes a whining noise, clearly still wanting to play with Mickey, and he shoves her bunny on her, hoping that she’ll keep quiet. 

Something about this guy is making him tense. He wants him to leave as soon as possible. The guy grabs a six pack and ambles over to the counter, taking a drag from his cigarette. Mickey freezes when he throws the beer down on the counter. 

Mickey _knows_ this guy. 

It’s Doug Meyer, one of Terry’s drug buddies. Mickey hasn’t seen him for nearly 3 years now, and Doug had always been either hammered or high, so it’s not like he would remember Mickey, right? Besides, Mickey probably looked a lot different when he last saw him- baby fat, dirty skin, messy clothes. 

“Pack of Marlboros,” Doug grunts out, and Mickey turns his back on him to grab the cigarettes from behind the counter. When he turns back, Doug is staring at Aileen. 

Mickey grits his teeth and rings the man up. He wants to fucking shoot him in the head, with the way he’s staring at his daughter. “$10.56,” he manages to get out, and then Doug turns his attention on to him, and their eyes lock. Doug still has the same scar under his eyebrow, and his teeth are cracked and yellow, and his lips stretch into a grin.

“Don’t I know you?”

“No,” Mickey snaps. “$10.56.”

“I do know you. You’re Terry’s boy, aren’t you?” Doug points a crooked finger at him, then turns it on Aileen. “Who the fuck is that?”

“None of your fucking buisness,” Mickey grits out. “$10.56.”

Doug waves him off, fishing out a $10 bill from his pocket. “She’s pretty,” he says. “Gonna be a good cocksucker one day.”

Mickey’s blood boils. No fucking no. This piece of shit did not just say that about his fucking daughter. 

“Get the fuck out!” he screams, jumping up, his hands finding the gun that Linda keeps beneath the counter. He holds the barrel up to Doug’s face, but the man just grins at him. 

“You want my money or no?” he taunts, holding up the bill. 

Mickey smacks it out of his hand and growls. “You better fucking get out right now and never come back, or I will fucking put a bullet between your eyes.”

Doug just raises his hands and ambles out, taking another drag of his cigarette. Mickey throws the gun down on the counter, landing heavily back in his chair. “Fuck!” 

Aileen starts to cry, squirming, and Mickey’s on her in seconds. 

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay,” he says, scooping her up and pressing her to him. “He’s gone now, you’re fine.  
Linda’s voice comes over the walkie-talkie. “Mickey, what the hell just happened?”

“Some crackhead came in,” Mickey responds, grabbing the radio from the counter while bouncing Aileen. “He’s gone now, though. I scared him off.”

Linda grunted. “That’s why I pay you.”

Aileen calms down after a while, whimpering into Mickey’s chest, and all the crying she did puts her into a nap. Mickey keeps her in his arms while she sleeps, content with shoving her face into his shirt. Two more people come in by the time his shift ends, throwing weird looks at Aileen, but thankfully he doesn’t have to threaten to shoot anybody else. 

Aileen is still asleep when he locks up, the sun beating down on the back of his neck, the chain Ian got him for Christmas hot against his skin. Mickey contemplates just going straight back to the Gallagher house, but then he thinks _fuck it_. 

“You wanna see Papa?” he coos to a sleeping Aileen. 

***

It’s after third period, and she’s getting her books for fourth, when Lip comes up behind her. 

“Nice ass,” he says, grabbing her and pressing her against the locker. 

Mandy stiffens for a second, then relaxes when she realizes it’s just her boyfriend. She shoves at his chest and huffs, starting to walk off to her chemistry class. “I thought you were my history teacher, Mr. Crouch.”

Lip chases after her. “Well, sorry to disappoint.”

“Hey, how was community service?” He had ditched the first few periods to get a head start on the 150 hours of community service the judge had tried him after he had stolen that laser from Chicago University. 

“Yeah, good,” he replies. “Met some Northside kids. Think I can make some dough off of them.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, gotta do what I can with my sister spending a bunch of our property tax money.”

Mandy rolls her eyes. She really hates Fiona. Mainly because Fiona treats her like shit. “Well, that was cunty of her. You know, you should be in charge of your family’s money, not Fiona.” She knows he’s smart enough, smarter than Fiona. 

Then the principal interrupts their conversation, talking again about Lip going to college, and Mandy’s interest is sparked. She stops by the guidance counselor, Mr. Heelie’s office during her free period. 

“Oh, surprised to see you at the college counseling center, Ms. Milkovich,” he says when she comes into his office. 

“Came to talk to you about Lip,” she replies. 

“We’re not allowed to be discussing another student, but I’d be more than happy to help you with your future options,” Mr. Heelie says, moving to stand behind his desk. 

Mandy scoffs. What future does she have? “Please. You and I both know my only options are getting pregnant or getting arrested. So cut the crap.”

Mr. Heelie brushes his hands together. “Didn’t your brother do both?”

She doesn’t respond. 

“Okay,” he says after a while. “Now, Lip. He has a good chance of getting out of here.”

Mandy sets her bag down on a chair. “And what are you doing about it?”

“Encouraging him to go to college. Doesn’t seem to be too interested.”

“You’re a guidance counselor,” she says firmly. “Fucking guide him.”

“There’s only so much I can do.”

“Well, what should he be doing?” Mandy asks. If Lip has the chance to get out here and make something of himself, she’s going to make sure he takes that chance and doesn’t just sit back and waste his potential, like all he’s ever done. 

Mr. Heelie lists a bunch of shit, but the only thing that sticks in her head is college applications. She can’t get teacher recommendations for him, but maybe she can do something about the applications. He invites her to stop by again at the end of the day to get college brochures, and then sends her on her way. 

***

Sam Wong wouldn’t stop staring at him during ROTC. They were doing field work, obstacle courses, and that shit. Ian catches his eye after he does the tire run, and then again when they’re practicing marching. His gaze prickles under his skin, and Ian’s fingers itch for a hit. Too bad he smoked up all of his weed. He needs to get more. 

He’s just about to head home, when Sam comes over to him. “I got something you want,” he says lowly, and Ian’s interest is piqued. 

He never pictured Sam to be a seller. The kid’s a goody-toe-shoes, and a year younger than Ian. He’s got a baby face and rich parents and he lives on the northern half of the Southside. Ian follows him under the bleachers by the soccer field, already pulling out his money. He has about $45 on him, that should get him about 3 or 4 joints, depending on what Sam’s price is. 

But apparently that isn’t what Sam had been eyeing him for. 

Because as soon as they’re hidden from prying eyes, Sam’s hands grab his crotch. 

Ian jumps back. “What the fuck?!”

“Aw, c’mon GI,” the other guy says sultrily. “I know you’re queer. It’s cool. I am, too.”

Oh shit, _that’s_ what he meant by _something you want._

“Jesus Christ, fuck off man, I thought you were selling.”

Sam’s face falls. “Selling what? C’mon, let me help you blow off some steam!”

Then he grabs Ian’s face and pulls him in for a kiss. His lips are wrong, and Ian has Mickey, but Sam has a good grip on the back of his neck. Ian tries to squirm out of his grasp, and then- 

“Lookie what we got here!”

Sam jerks away, and Ian pushes him back to see Mickey, jumping through the poles of the bleachers. There’s a smile on his face, and he looks rather gleeful. 

“Mickey?” Ian says, confused. Mickey’s supposed to be at home by now. But he doesn't say anything, just walks over and kicks Sam in the balls. 

Sam groans out and collapses, and Mickey starts kicking him again. “You having some sort of queer-bo sex under here?”

Ian has to laugh at that, and glances away, spying Aileen’s stroller just under the bleachers. He guesses Mickey made his way to the school right after the Kash N’ Grab. 

“No, no, I swear,” Sam pants out as Mickey lands a kick to his stomach. “Why are you still beating me up? He was doing it too!” Sam points back at Ian, and Ian just raises an eyebrow. 

“Seeing as you’re the one trying to get on _my_ boyfriend, you’re the only one I gotta kick straight.” Mickey leans down and grabs Sam by the back of his uniform. “It working?”

“Yes, yes,” Sam gasps out, leaning heavily on a pole. 

“Good,” Mickey says simply. “Get the hell out of here.” He lets Sam go and Sam scrambles up, but not before Mickey delivers one more kick to his ass. 

Ian leans against the bars as Mickey turns around to raise an eyebrow at him. “The fuck you doing with that faggot?”

“Thought he was going to sell me some weed. Turns out all he wanted was sex.” Ian has to admit, seeing Mickey like that has his dick twitching in interest. “You brought Aileen?”

“Yeah. We came to see you,” Mickey says, then his gaze drops down to Ian’s crotch. “She’ll probably be asleep for another 20 minutes, if you wanna do a quickie. Or did you dump it all in that faggot’s ass?”

Ian just grins and follows Mickey as he moves more under the bleachers, leaning over and tugging his jeans down. Ian undoes his belt and tugs his pants down just enough to get his dick out. They don’t have lube or condoms or anything, so Ian settles for eating Mickey out while jerking himself off, his face buried in his boyfriend’s ass. 

They come together, Ian painting the ground, and Mickey, the support poles. Afterwards, Mickey grabs a cigarette and a lighter from Ian’s bag, bringing the cigarette to his lips. 

“You think you should be smoking while breastfeeding?” Ian calls over his shoulder as he goes to retrieve Aileen. She’s still sleeping. She’s like Mickey- she could sleep through an atomic bomb. 

Mickey shoots him his middle finger and settles down on one of the horizontal poles, taking a drag. “Got extra milk at home,” he says. Ian sets Aileen up next to them.

“Man, that was good,” Mickey says. “Missed ya.”

Ian glances over and smirks at him. “You did?”

“Yeah, man. It’s boring as fuck in the Kash N’ Grab.” Mickey speaks around his cigarette, smoke billowing out of his mouth, and Ian thinks maybe he could go again. “We gotta fuck for real some time, though. No more of this eating out bullshit.”

Ian grins down at Mickey. They’ve only had actual sex, dick-in-butt sex, last month where they let Debbie watch Aileen for the night. But even then, it was hurried and unsatisfactory. Ian settles down next to Mickey, and takes the cigarette he offers him.

“Anyway,” Mickey continues. “I crunched some numbers at work today and we’re running out of money.”

Ian takes a drag. “Shit, really?”

“Well, we ain’t completely out, but we’re going to start watching what we buy now. No more random shit for Aileen. The gun money wore off.”

“Shit,” Ian says, sighing. They (mainly Ian) had been buying Aileen tons of stuff- more clothes and pacifiers than she could ever probably need. It was the cheap shit, but still, it added up. He handed the cigarette back to Mickey, who was able to take another drag before Aileen woke up and started fussing. 

“I got her,” Ian said, springing up. He hadn’t seen his daughter at all since he left for school. He picks her up, and she instantly quiets, staring up at him and smiling. “Hi,” he coos, bouncing her. Mickey flicks his cigarette away and stands up. 

“We should probably head back home, huh? She might need a diaper change.”

Frank’s in the living room when they get back home, eating spaghetti and wears a pair of Fiona’s shorts. 

“Jesus,” Ian draws out. “Why the fuck are you back here?”

“Jimmy let me in,” Frank replies. Then, “Hey, that’s my granddaughter!”

He points at Aileen, who’s perched on Ian’s hip while Mickey folds up the stroller, shooting a glare at Frank. “Unfortunately,” Ian says, moving into the kitchen to get a snack. Frank follows him. 

“Y’know, why don’t you and your baby mama have some gay sex, and I’ll look after her for a while.”

“No,” Mickey snaps, grabbing some chips from the cupboard. “Absolutely not.”

“Aw, c’mon! I remember when all you rugrats were younger, Monica and I barely had any time to bang.”

“Gross,” Ian says, making a face and stealing some of Mickey’s chips. Aileen shoves her hand in her mouth. “And no, you don’t get to watch her. You’re just gonna sell her, like you did Liam, or forget about her on some street corner while you go and buy weed.”

He grabs Mickey’s hand and tugs him up the backstairs, leaving Frank in the kitchen. Mickey shoves chips in his mouth after Ian ushers him into his room and slams the door shut. 

“Damn,” Mickey says, swallowing. “Your dad sold Liam?”

Ian puts a lock on their door that night to keep Frank out. 

Frank doesn’t spend the night at home, but disappears, probably off drinking with his buddies. It’s Saturday, and Ian sleeps in for another glorious 30 minutes before he’s awaken by Mickey getting up for work. They’re in the kitchen, eating breakfast when Frank wanders back in while Lip and Fiona are arguing about Fiona’s upcoming club night she’s running. 

“Daddy’s home!” Frank calls. “Brought friends!” His friends are old guys with beer bellies, and he dumps a crumpled bike on the ground. Ian recognizes that bike. 

“Hey!” he shouts, standing up, anger shooting through him. “That’s my bike!”

“Doesn’t really work anymore,” Frank tells him as he passes by him. 

“Yeah, because you bent the rim, Frank. And where’s the seat?”

“That’s why it hurt so much when I rode it!” Frank says to his buddies, and they laugh stupidly. Ian wants nothing more than to pummel Frank’s face in. Now how the hell is he supposed to go to work? 

“Get some breaky, soak up the alcohol,” says Frank then, leading his friends into the kitchen. One of them leans over to try and grab the sandwiches Fiona’s making. 

“Hey!” she shouts. “This is our food!”

“Don’t be rude,” the guy slurs back at her. 

“Is this about money, Fiona?” Frank says, getting in her face. “Because I am happy to pay my share. That’s all you want from me anymore, anyway.” He then proceeds to pour out some crack on a piece of aluminum foil. “There. You happy, huh? That’s about $300 worth. C’mon lads, let’s go upstairs. Take a disco nap ‘till the Alibi’s open again.” He starts towards the stairs, and Lip jumps up. 

“Hey, no, no.”

Ian moves over when Lip grabs Frank. One of Frank’s friends grabs the banana Ian was eating for breakfast and waves at Aileen, who’s sitting on Mickey’s lap. Mickey bares his teeth at him. 

“This is my home,” Frank growls at Lip, poking him in the chest. “You have no right to keep me out of it! I’m an important part of this family!”

“No, you’re not,” Ian snaps in his face. “You don’t live here anymore.”

Frank stares at Ian, and Ian’s ready to fight him, but Frank just raises his eyebrows and steps back, his hands flying up. “Fine,” he slurs. “If that’s the way you want it, I’ll leave.” He turns to his friends. “Phil, Chester, I’m sorry, my family doesn't want me here anymore.” He starts to leave them away, but then suddenly turns around and shoves Lip into Ian. “Charge!” He and his disgusting friends run upstairs, no doubt going to throw up in their beds. 

Ian stumbles, cursing and helping Lip to regain his footing, as Fiona shouts, “That’s it! Let’s go!”

The Gallaghers pelt up the stairs after Frank and his friends, and follow them into Debbie’s room, where one of them is… fucking peeing on Debbie’s wall? 

“What the hell are you doing?” Lip shouts and grabs him, but he only turns around sprays Ian and Lip with his piss. 

“What the fuck, just leave!” Ian snaps at him, shoving him away. Mickey smacks at the guy as he passes by him, and Ian helps Mandy drag the other guy off his ass on the floor. Fiona tries to yank Frank out of the bed, while Debbie yells at them all to stop. Fiona finally tugs him up, but Frank punches Fiona in the stomach, sending her into the wall, then stumbles backwards and sits on Debbie’s project for school, crushing it. 

Everyone freezes. 

“Well, it was a piece of shit, anyway,” Frank says. 

“Frank!” Fiona hisses out while Debbie backs away slowly. Lip grabs her arm, but she shoves past him and Mickey and runs away. 

Ian, Fiona, and Lip are on Frank in seconds when he settles back down in Debbie’s bed, trying to drag him out while he’s protesting, shouting back at them, and then all of a sudden, Debbie returns, with a pillow case stuffed full of hard soap, and begins to hit Frank over the head with it. 

“Jesus!” Mickey lets out as Fiona gasps. 

“I! Want! You! Out! How could! You! Do this! To me!” Debbie screams, hitting Frank everywhere she can. “Get out of my house! I hate you!”

Ian just stands back and watches his little sister hit their father again and again. It’s like a dam has broken inside of Debbie. Years of protesting that Frank really isn’t as bad as everyone says, of sticking up for him when no one else would, is all gone. Ian glances over at Mickey, who raises his eyebrows at him. 

Frank finally rolls out of bed, and Lip and Ian grab him before he can crash to the floor, but Debbie doesn’t let up, still hitting Frank as they lead him out of her room. It doesn't take a lot to lift him up, Ian grabbing his armpits while Lip guides his feet. 

They take him outside while he’s yelling at them. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is the thanks I get?”

“Where should we put him,” Ian says, sighing. 

“Where he belongs,” Lip replies, and leads him over to their dumpster. “Open it up, Carl!” 

Carl, who had been in front of them, opens up the dumpster, and Ian and Lip heave him over the side and dump him in. Carl slams the cover on top of him, and Lip kicks the dumpster as they walk away. Mickey meets him on the back porch, grabbing his ass. 

Ian laughs and drapes his arm over Mickey’s. 

“Fuck me when I get back home,” Mickey whisperes into Ian’s ear. Yeah, Ian can definitely do that. 

Ian plays with Aileen and Liam all day long while Fiona goes off to get ready for her club night and Lip goes off to community service. Liam’s getting pretty good at sharing- he hands Aileen one of his blocks, but she can’t take it, so Ian grabs it for her, and holds it above her head. 

She tilts her head back, staring at the block, but can’t yet lift her arms yet. Ian sets it down on the ground in front of her, and she reaches out, managing to tip it over. 

He feeds her around noon time while he’s eating his own lunch, then sets her on his chest while she naps. He keeps the TV low and Carl wanders in, plopping heavily down. 

“I hate Frank,” he says.

“I hate Frank, too,” Ian agrees. 

Ian manages to get Carl to watch Aileen, as Debbie’s still too pissed about Frank, him and Mickey giving him clear instructions on what to do when. Sure that Carl’s going to be fine, they head upstairs to their newly-lockable room, and Mickey’s on Ian in seconds. 

“Fuck,” he groans out against their lips. “Need you so fucking bad.”

“Mmm,” Ian replies, his hands finding Mickey’s ass and kneading. Fuck, he loves his ass. It’s always been fucking perfect, but now it’s even more so, with the addition of the still-there baby weight. Ian doesn’t mind one bit. He walks Mickey backwards until they collapse on their bed, and then they’re tearing at each other’s clothes.

When they’re completely stripped bare, Mickey rolls over onto Ian’s hips and reaches a hand over, tugging open a bedside table drawer and withdrawing lube and condoms. Ian grins. Fuck, he hasn’t been in Mickey in so long. 

He takes the condom Mickey passes him and rolls it on himself, then Mickey lubes up his own fingers and sticks two in himself, tossing his head back and letting out a low moan. Ian gasps and his hands find Mickey’s hips. Heat is coiling in his belly as he watches Mickey fuck himself, his hips rolling back. He adds a third one, then grabs the lube again and dripples it over Ian’s dick, then finally, finally, _finally_ , he’s sinking down, and Ian’s enveloped in Mickey’s tight heat. 

He lets out a groan, leaning up to try and find Mickey’s mouth. Thankfully, his boyfriend gets the message and leans down, slotting their lips together. Ian slides his tongue into Mickey’s mouth as Mickey rolls his hips back on Ian’s dick, and Ian’s own hips jerk up of their own accord. 

“Christ,” he pants out. “So tight.”

Mickey just grins, and does it again, lifting himself up slightly and dropping back down.

“More,” Ian groans. “Or I’ll do it myself.”

Mickey just rolls his eyes and arches his back. “Yeah, okay, tough guy.” But he starts to move faster and faster until he’s bouncing on Ian’s dick and Ian is finding it hard to contain himself. He pumps his hips up as Mickey sits down heavily, and Mickey’s eyes literally roll to the back of his head. 

“Fuck, right there,” he gasps out. They start up a rhythm, Ian planting his feet to really drive up into Mickey, and his hand wraps around Mickey’s dick, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. It’s not long until they both come, Mickey, heavily over Ian, and Ian, inside Mickey. 

Mickey slides off him, flopping heavily down on Ian’s left, panting. Ian rolls off the condom, ties it off, and throws it in the trash. Although he misses really feeling Mickey, he has to admit, condoms make clean up a lot easier. 

“God, that was good,” Mickey groans. “Missed your dick.”

Ian lets out a breathy laugh, and rolls over to kiss Mickey. He goes to pull back, but Mickey’s fingers find the back of his neck and he grabs on to him, making him stay there. Mickey lets him go when they’re running out of air, and Ian pulls back, resting his head on Mickey’s shoulder. 

“If I knew throwing Frank in the trash would’ve gotten you this riled up, I would’ve done it sooner.”

Mickey laughs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I cheated you guys out of some smut in season 2, so I added some here for you horndogs. :) Also now that choking, daddy kink, and breeding kink are canon, I guess I'll have to add some of that...  
> Look for chapter 3 after Christmas!


	3. May I Trim Your Hedges?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whatever. Get smarter customers. I’m not going down for this shit,” he adds, coming out from behind the cash register. 
> 
> “Oh,” Mickey says, and something in Ian’s tone is bringing back his excitement from before. “Okay. So, uh, what’cha going down for then, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a happy and safe holidays, if you celebrate! Who's excited for the HOS episode? Only 12 more hours….
> 
> Just to let you know, my school suddenly changed our schedule for semester 2, so now our remote days are longer, so I probably won't be able to write as much. :( I'll start posting maybe like a week apart (?) starting in two weeks.

Mickey and Ian take a late shift at the Kash N’ Grab the Saturday after Ian’s birthday. They had thrown a party last night, but the feeling had tied over into the next day, and nobody feels like doing much in the morning. 

“Jesus, you’re 17 now,” Mickey said during his party. “You’re like a fucking old man.”

Ian just laughed and draped an arm over Mickey. “I’m the same age as you now. That makes you an old man, too.”

Mickey and Ian are passed out until Aileen wakes them up. Mickey just drags her into their bed and nurses her while Ian curls into his side. He tucks her into his arm when she’s done, and they fall back to sleep, their daughter cuddled in between them. 

But the moment is broken nearly an hour later when Mickey’s ass starts to numb from lying down so long, and he begrudgingly gets up. Ian changes and dresses Aileen, and they get ready themselves, and make their way downstairs. It’s just then, Lip, Mandy, Carl, and Jimmy, as Fiona’s taken Debbie and Liam grocery shopping. Jimmy makes them french toast and Mickey goes back for seconds. 

Lip and Mandy are doing the dishes when Fiona storms back in, Debbie and Liam hot on her heels. 

“Hey! You’re back!” Jimmy says. “How was the store?”

Fiona doesn’t say anything, just goes straight to the phone and calls the police, telling them stiffly about a pedophile jerking off on the L. 

“What- you’re kidding,” Lip says when she hangs up and announces they’re on their way. 

“Wish I was,” she says. “Poor Debbie had to see it.”

“Jesus, that shit is messed up,” Mickey says, curling his lip. It disgusts him how guys can look at little kids and want to fuck them. They’re kids! They don’t even know what fucking is! Maybe he holds onto Aileen a little tighter. 

Some police officer comes by and asks Debbie to describe the man on the L. 

“Red. Really, really red,” she says while Jimmy strokes her hair and all the other Gallaghers huddle around her. 

“What, like sunburned?” Lip asks. 

“She’s talking about his-” Fiona starts, but is interrupted by Ian. 

“The guy,” he says quickly. “Debs, what did the guy look like? His face.”

“How are you supposed to see his face behind that giant, red, one-eyed-”

“Got it,” the police officer says quickly. “Okay. You did great, miss, thank you.”

Mickey rubs his eyebrow and lets out a sigh. “Fucking disgusting,” he mutters to Ian, shifting Aileen on his hip. 

Lip distracts Debbie with the promise of a popsicle, and the rest of them trail outside. 

“If it were me, I woulda bit his dick off,” Mandy says to Ian and Mickey while Carl pokes at Debbie. 

“Are you stupid, bitch? You can’t do that shit in public. You gotta do it with no witnesses around.”

“Do what?” Lip asks, sliding up to Mandy. 

“Bite pedophiles’ dicks off,” Ian responds, bouncing Aileen. He took her from Mickey when they went outside, and she’s more awake now, tipping her head back in Ian’s hold and staring up at the sky. 

“Well,” Lip says to Mandy. “If you’re that desperate, I’m sure we can find one easily.”

Fiona and Jimmy have left the house, so Lip digs out his computer and pulls up their neighborhood sex offender list in the living room while everyone else gathers around him. Ian perches on the couch arm rest, setting Aileen in his lap, and Mickey smooshes in next to Carl. 

“Holy shit,” Carl says when Lip pulls up the website. 

“Lotta red dots,” Lip agrees. 

“All those red dots are sex offenders in our neighborhood?” exclaims Debbie. Lip scrolls over the dots, and pauses on one. 

“Wait, check this out. Child rapist, 3 blocks over. Did 5 years and out on probation.”

“How does a child rapist only get 5 years?” Mandy asks. 

“He doesn’t. He gets 5 years plus the beating of his life,” Lip replies, springing up. “Let’s go.”

“Thought you were gonna fix the pool,” Carl says. 

“Nah, nah, you should come Carl, grab the bat,” Lip instructs, pointing at the bat hanging on the stairs. 

“Awesome!”

“Fuck yeah, let’s go end this son of a bitch,” Mickey says, grinning at Ian as he stands up. He hasn’t beaten up anyone in two months, ever since a bitch ran away with cans of corn from the Kash N’ Grab, and he feels like he’s going through withdrawals. His knuckles are getting too soft. 

“You want help?” Mandy asks. “My brothers always love a good perv posse.”

“So we’re just forgetting about the guy in the bus?” Debbie says, spreading her hands. 

“Hell, no,” Mandy says to her. “I’m gonna teach you self defense. Milkovich style.” She pulls out her baton. 

“Think you can watch Aileen while you do it?” Ian asks, holding her out to her aunt. 

“We can teach her, too,” replies Mandy, grabbing Aileen around her armpits and settling her on her hip. 

“Fuck yeah,” Mickey says, waving bye to Aileen as Mandy and Debbie disappear with her upstairs. “Teach ‘em young, that’s the Southside way.” Ian just rolls his eyes and scruffs Mickey’s neck. “Get off me, bitch,” Mickey says teasingly. 

“Mmm-hmm,” Ian says, then guides him into a kiss. 

“Gross,” Carl says. 

Lip meets them out on the sidewalk. “So, Mickey, where would your brothers be about now?”

“Eh, probably at the Alibi. My cousins are probably there, too. We can have a big fucking family reunion.”

Sure enough, Iggy’s playing pool with Uncle Ronnie, who’s not actually Mickey and Mandy’s uncle, but hung out around with Terry doing drug runs long enough to earn the title. 

“Yo, Mickey! What’s up guys!” Iggy says when he sees them. 

“A convicted child rapist just moved in down the street,” Lip says. 

Iggy and Uncle Ronnie turn to each other. 

“Let’s get the boys,” Uncle Ronnie grunts out. 

Apparently Colin’s in jail again; he punched some old dude in the face; so just Jamie and Joey join them. Iggy takes the pool cue from the Alibi, and Carl insists on holding the bat by himself, Ian passes cigarettes around, and Lip directs them to the 

They pass a trio of guys working on a car, and one of them says, “What the fuck is this little parade?”

Iggy, who’s in the front, simply says, “Kid fucker. Next block.” That’s all they need to hear before they’re joining in behind Joey. 

The house is right next to Angie Zago’s, the girl Mickey had fucked a few times before he had been with Ian. He had always liked Angie. She had never wanted to talk much when they fuck- she would just let him get on her, and then let him leave soon after. The child rapist’s house is a huge yellow thing, with perfectly shaped bushes, and Mickey’s eyebrows rise. Who the fuck is he trying to fool? 

They all line up in the pathway, and Iggy knocks on the door, the pool cue raised in his hands. The door swings open, and Mickey blinks.

He had been expecting some old, greasy guy with a beer belly and bad breath, but that’s not who’s standing at the door. It’s a lean, blonde woman, with a blouse and looking rather scared as she takes in all the grumpy men standing in front of her door. 

“May I help you?” she asks, and her voice is soft and tentative. 

“We’re looking for Blake Collins,” Iggy says, trying to peer past her. Maybe this is his wife or girlfriend or something. 

The woman sighs. “I am Blake Collins,” she says, and Iggy turns to Ian who’s leaning up against the side of the house, a cigarette dangling from his lips and his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Oh, shit,” he says, taking his cigarette out of his mouth. “You’re the 8th-grade teacher who screwed her student, right? You were on TV.”

Mickey glances at Iggy. He kinda remembers hearing about that when he was in middle school from his older brothers. They had been talking about how some hot teacher had gotten arrested for fucking a student, and how it was so unfair that it wasn’t them. 

“I didn’t _screw_ William, I love him,” Blake Collins insists, crossing her arms. “And I did my time, I paid for my mistake- if love can be called a mistake,” she adds. Mickey glances over at Ian, playing with his bottom lip. He had been so ready to pummel some son of a bitch, and now he has a bunch of pent up energy. 

“I’m sure there are real criminals in the neighborhood that you can beat up if you have the inclination. Now, please, may I close the door?” she asks, and Iggy nods awkwardly. As she slams the door, Mickey waves good-bye, and Ian takes another puff of his cigarette. 

Iggy turns around to see the rest of the group. “Shit,” he breathes out. “Let’s go find a camel jockey.”

All the random people they’ve acquired start to wander away, and Iggy says a quick “bye” to Mickey before catching up with Uncle Ronnie. 

“Yo, Carl, get home, alright?” Lip says, and Carl just nods and ambles off in the general direction of the Gallagher house. “Shit, we still gotta do something,” he adds to Mickey and Ian. Mickey steals Ian’s cigarettes and lighter, and lights up one. 

“You thinking gang bang?” Mickey jokes. 

“Uh, no, but she fucks little kids,” Lip snaps. Why is he so fucked over about this? It’s not like she fucked a 3-year-old- he was 14. 

“It was one kid, and he wasn’t that little,” Ian says, holding the gate to Blake Collins’ house open for Lip and Mickey 

“Look, he was 14. She was his teacher,” Lip insists. “You really want a pedophile living in the neighborhood?” He gestures back towards her house. 

“Shit, I woulda hit that if I could,” Mickey says in honesty, and Ian glares back at him. “Calm down,” he says to him. “I used the past tense.”

They pass by Angie Zago’s house, and Mickey can feel her eyes boring into him and she sits on her porch, drinking beer and waiting for her next fuck. It’s just a bad reminder of who he used to be, so he moves closer to Ian and hands him his cigarette. 

They take the long way back to the Gallagher house, just to spend more time in the May sun and to spend more time with each other. Lip doesn’t stop bringing up the fact that Blake Collins is a registered sex offender. 

“You were having sex at 14,” Ian points out. 

“I was having sex with a 14-year-old at 14,” Lip retorts. 

“So you think Kash should’ve gone to jail,” Ian asks then. The fucker’s name strikes anger through Mickey. He had always thought it was absolutely disgusting how Ian would consciously go after a man old enough to be his father. 

“Yeah, I do,” Lip says.

“Yes,” Mickey grumbles out. Ian glances at him in surprise. 

“I almost called the cops 100 times. I should’ve- creepy fucking Arab dude, fucking my little brother,” Lip continues. 

“Christ, I shoulda brought my ruger the day he shot me over a snickers bar,” Mickey says. “Given that pussy a taste of his own medicine.”

“I was 15, I was old enough to make my own decisions,” Ian says. 

“You were a kid, he was a man,” replies Lip. 

“Sure, you could make your own decisions, stupid-ass decision,” adds Mickey. His lip is curling at the thought of his boyfriend fucking an wrinkly, old dude. 

“Says you,” Ian says. 

“You really want this chick living in the neighborhood? Think about Carl!” Lip says. 

Mickey scoffs. “Carl should be so lucky.”

“Okay, so what if it were Debbie and a 30-year-old dude? Or Aileen?” Lip says to him. 

“It’s different,” Ian says and Mickey clenches his fist. Aileen’s a fucking _baby,_ for Christ’s sake. She doesn’t even know how to sit up by herself. 

“Bullshit, it’s different!” Lip explodes. 

“Debbie’s not hanging around the park with lollipops. She fell in love,” says Ian. 

“It’s got nothing to do with love. This chick is a standard issue pedophile, and I’m going to prove it.”

Mickey and Ian glance at each other. Mickey doesn’t even want to know what he means. 

At the Kash N’ Grab later, Mickey tries to sell weed to some dumb kid, who Ian snaps at. “Just get out. You need whatever brain cells you got left.”

The kid scampers off, and Mickey turns to Ian. “Why you gotta mess with my business? You said we needed the money.”

“Yeah, but not like that. And why you gotta do your business in my store?”

“It’s not your store,” Mickey says. “It’s towelhead’s store.”

“Whatever. Get smarter customers. I’m not going down for this shit,” he adds, coming out from behind the cash register. 

“Oh,” Mickey says, and something in Ian’s tone is bringing back his excitement from before. “Okay. So, uh, what’cha going down for then, huh?”

Ian stares at him, then the corner of his mouth flicks up, and Mickey can’t help but grin and raise his eyebrows suggestively at his boyfriend. Ian follows him to the back after locking up the shop, and shoves him up against the wall in the storage room, tugging his pants down roughly and swallowing him in one go. 

“Jesus Christ, Ian!” Mickey lets out, slamming his head back against the wall so that he sees stars. “Hell…”

Ian pops off his dick long enough to suck two fingers into his mouth, then returns, burying his nose in Mickey’s pubic hair and reaching past his balls to trace around his hole. Mickey groans at the pleasure racing up his spine and curling in his stomach and spreads his feet farther apart to give Ian more access. He comes when Ian makes it up to three fingers, and jerks Ian off after. 

“Fuuuuck,” Ian groans when he explodes into Mickey’s hand, his hips jerking forward. Mickey studies the cum on his hand for a second, then looks Ian dead in the eye and brings his hand up to his mouth and licks it slowly clean. It’s amazing how fast he’s gotten used to the taste of Ian’s bitter, salty cum.

Ian’s pupils darken even more and his breath hitches, but he shoves at Mickey. 

“We need to get back to work,” he insists, and Mickey pouts. 

Turns out the surprises of the day aren’t over yet, because while Mickey’s doing a deal in the back of the store to avoid Ian getting pissed at him again, some old guy walks in and leans up against the counter, talking to Ian. 

Mickey takes the bills his customers hand him for his weed, and studies the man. Old, dressed nicely, his hip cocked to the side. Jesus Christ, is he flirting with his boyfriend? 

Mickey’s blood boils and he clenches his teeth, making his way over just as Ian says, “Yeah, okay,” and the guy turns to leave, the remnants of a smile sliding off his face. 

Mickey stands between him and the door, studying him. “You got a receipt.”

The geriatric looks genuinely shocked to be asked that, and turns to Ian, who hands him his receipt. He holds it up to Mickey and smirks at him, and Mickey has no choice but to step aside and let him pass. He glares at his retreating back, then turns to Ian. 

“Is that your grandpa?” he asks, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Ian’s putting the money in the cash register.

“That was Ned. You know, Jimmy’s dad from the club?”

What. The. Fuck. 

“You’re kidding,” Mickey says dryly. “The fuck did he want?”

“Offered to take me out on a date,” Ian replies. 

“Uh-huh. And what the fuck did you say?”

“I said yes.”

Mickey shoves at Ian. “What the hell, Gallagher? What are you thinking?”

“Jesus, Mick,” Ian says back. “He offered to pay me. $300 for just one date. We need the money.”

Mickey narrows his eyes. He has to admit, they do need the money, but does that really mean Ian has to become a fucking sugar baby?

“So what are you guys gonna do, huh? You gonna like picnic together? Get a little dog with a fucking sweater?”

Ian rolls his eyes. “We’re just going to the Fountain. No big deal. Maybe I can grab some breadsticks for you.”

Mickey grits his teeth. He hates this, because some old viagroid is going to be touching _his_ boyfriend, but he knows that they _do_ need the money. 

“If he even _looks_ at your cock, I’m smashing his fucking head in,” Mickey decides. 

At 4, when their shifts end, they head over to the Fountain, and Mickey texts Mandy to ask her to watch Aileen for a little bit longer. He can’t believe Ian actually fucking agreed to this. 

“Relax,” Ian tells him. “I’m not going to let him do anything. Maybe if I agree to one date, he’ll back the fuck off.”

“Christ, it’s like I need to put a fucking sign on you that says you’re taken to keep all the wrinkly-ass old men away,” Mickey mumbles out. 

Ian grins at him. “Aw, are you jealous?”

“Yes,” Mickey spits out. “Because my fucking boyfriend is going on a date with some faggot.”

“Not a date,” Ian says simply. “You don’t get paid to go on dates.”

Mickey spies the bitch, Jimmy’s fucking _dad,_ waiting for Ian at the door to the bar. 

“Why don’t you wait here,” Ian says. “I don’t need you scaring him away. I’ll be an hour, tops.”

Mickey settles himself in the doorway of some permanently closed shop, watching as Ian crosses the street and the creep, Ned, greets him with a hug. Mickey doesn’t miss how Ian doesn’t hug him back, however. They move inside, and eventually get appetizers and fucking wine. Mickey doesn't take his eyes off Ian for one second. 

It’s clearly a gay bar, as there’s only one chick in there, and she’s wearing black clothes and has tons of piercings, and that fact does nothing to damper Mickey’s mood. 

Ian laughs along to something Ned says, and Mickey clenches his fists. He’s true to his word, however, and they amble out just less than an hour later, laughing at something together. 

When Mickey sees Ned handing Ian the cash discreetly, he decides Ned’s time with his boyfriend is up and makes his way over. 

“Shit, Mickey,” Ian says, because they had planned for Ian to find Mickey later, not the other way around. 

“Aaaah, from the store, right?” Ned says, pointing at Mickey and turning to Ian like he fucking ownes him. It makes Mickey’s blood boil. “Ah, c’mon, Ian. Don’t be rude. Invite your boyfriend back to my place. I mean, the more the merrier, right?”

Mickey throws a sarcastic smile at Ian, who’s fisting the cash Ned gave him and telling him to back off with his eyes. Mickey doesn’t want to listen. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, laughing at how stupid this old guy must be. “What’d you say to me?”

The viagroid looks genuinely confused- “What?”- and Mickey wants nothing more than to smash his stupid, smug face in. 

So he does. 

He heatbutts the grandpa, and he goes down easily, and Mickey can’t stop. 

“Jesus, Mickey,” Ian sighs, and Mickey lands a punch in viagroid’s face. 

“Faggot! The fuck did you say to me, you faggot?” He smashes his face again, and punches him in the stomach, causing him to curl up on himself. 

“Alright, enough,” Ian says, shoving at his shoulder, and Mickey can hear car horns going off in the background. Mickey shoves back at Ian, jumping up and landing a few good kicks to Ned’s abdomen. He does not get to take _his_ boyfriend out on a fucking _date_ and then invite him over to his house, and then act as if _he_ had the first claim on Ian. Fuck him. Fuck them all. 

He’s too caught up in ending his pathetic life that he’s taken off guard when Ian jabs at his throat. A throbbing pain erupts, and he falls backwards, as Ian hurriedly looks around them at the cars that are stopping. 

“What the fuck, Gallagher?” he manages to croak out. 

“Shit, Mickey, they’re gonna call the cops,” Ian says, bending down in between Mickey and Ned. “Are you okay?” Ian asks him, and Mickey scrambles to his feet. Why the fuck is Ian doting over _him_? 

“Come on,” he snaps to Ian. He sees a few people on their phones, and Ian’s still bent over Ned. “Gallagher!” he calls, and that gets Ian’s attention. Some fit black guy saunters over, looking like business, and Ian lets out an “Aw, shit!” and they start pelting down the street. 

Adrenaline floods through Mickey’s veins and he doesn’t think he’s had this much fun in a long time, being chased by some guy with his boyfriend by his side. They manage to out run him, taking back alleyways that he’s clearing not familiar with until they’ve lost him. 

They slow to a stop when he’s out of their sight, Mickey panting like crazy. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Ian shouts, getting in Mickey’s face, but Mickey can’t help but hold his hands up and laugh. He’s high on life and the whole thing is fucking funny to him. Ian leans over with his hands on his knees, regaining his breath, then straightens up and grins at Mickey. 

Mickey grabs the back of his neck and reaches for his crotch, but Ian grabs Mickey around his hips and they’re both laughing. Mickey tries to squirm out of Ian’s grip, but Ian has a good grip on his shirt, so Mickey goes in for his nipple. 

Ian bursts out laughing, and Mickey manages to slip away, grinning so hard his face is starting to hurt, but Ian chases after him, catching up to him and they fake each other out before Ian tries to grab his arm, then manages to kick his ass when Mickey slips away again. 

They run all the way home, laughing and chasing each other. On the porch of the Gallagher house, Ian grabs Mickey around the waist and pulls him in for a kiss, slotting their lips together messily. Ian licks his way into Mickey’s mouth, and Mickey lets him, wrapping his arms around Ian’s neck and running his hands over his close-cropped hair. Ian rubs his hands up Mickey’s back, breathing in deeply, then pulls back to exhale, the corners of his mouth flicking up into a grin. He holds up the cash he shoved messily in his pocket and waves it around in the air. 

“300 bucks,” he says. “300 fucking bucks.”

Mickey laughs. “We’re like fucking rich, man.”

Ian drags him in for another kiss. “We should get Aileen that bouncer seat,” he says when they separate.

“Fuck yeah,” Mickey replies. “Christ, we haven’t seen her in so long.”

Aileen’s taking a nap when they make their way into the house, and Mandy’s watching TV with a beer in her hand. 

“Hey,” she says softly to them. “Where were you guys?”

Ian holds up the money they made off of Ned. “Had a date, beat up an old guy, got $300,” he lists off. Mandy raises an eyebrow and glances between Mickey and Ian. 

“What?”

Mickey waves her off. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. Mandy scoffs and they move past her, Mickey gently picking Aileen up from her bassinet before making their way upstairs. 

Ian throws the money down on the bed and collapses next to it as Mickey settles down with Aileen tucked against his chest. 

“What a fucking day, man,” he says and Aileen begins to stir, roused by her father’s voice and the movement. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Ian says, sliding over to her. She turns her sleepy gaze to him, blinking, but then starts to wriggle when she recognizes him. He plucks her from Mickey’s hands, and Mickey is more than happy to watch Ian cradle her in his arms, cooing down at her. 

“It’s been a long day,” he says. “But now I have you here!” He gently boops her nose, and her eyes go cross trying to see his finger. He chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead, and Mickey feels his heart warm. 

“Ah,” Aileen says as Mickey cuddles up next to Ian, resting a hand on his arm. 

“Hi princess,” he says softly, as if he did not just beat up some geriatric. 

“What’cha thinking, pre-dinner nap?” Ian asks, and Mickey can definitely get on board with that. Sprinting the whole way home has tired him out. 

“Yup,” he replies, and lets his eyes slide shut as he leans up against his boyfriend, his hand curling around his daughter. 

***

The only visitor he gets is Ronnie every Thursday at exactly 3 pm, so he’s surprised when, on a Monday, a guard announces he has a visitor and drags him away. It’s not like his children or nephews or nieces ever visit him, they’re all traitors anyway, and Colin, the only son he ever cared about, is in prison himself, though in a different facility. 

But when he sits down heavily on one side of the glass, he finds his visitor is not Ronnie, or anyone from his family, but Doug Meyer, who he hasn’t seen in nearly 6 years, after Doug got busted and locked up. 

“Terry,” Doug drawls out when they each pick up their phone. 

“Doug,” Terry grunts back. “What’ca doing here? Thought they caught you.”

“I got out,” Doug replies, leaning back easily in his chair. “Looks like we’ve swapped places, though. How did that happen?”

“Some faggot,” Terry mumbles. “The whole system is turning into nothing but shirt-lifters and pussy boys.”

“Hmm. That’s too bad. You getting jobs in there, though?”

“Yeah. Ronnie’s been hooking me up.”

Doug nods and glances around him. There’s not a lot of other people there- visitation is rather quiet in the middle of a Monday. There’s a woman meeting with her husband, and another man who’s visiting someone who looks like his father. 

“Why’re ya here, Doug?” Terry asks. He hasn’t seen him in 6 years, and all of a sudden he shows up, visiting him at jail. “I don’t owe you anything.”

Doug shakes his head. “Not here about you. You remember that store run by that brown-skinned towel head?”

“The convenience store at the corner by the L?” Terry grunts out. Sure, he remembers it. And he remembers the pussy towel head who ran it. He beat that fucker up a shitton of times. 

Doug nods. “That’s the one. Well, the other day I popped in there for some beer and cigarettes and guess who I saw?”

Terry doesn't say anything. What’s Doug getting at? 

“I saw your boy,” Doug continues. 

“Colin’s locked up,” Terry grunts out, but Doug shakes his head. 

“Not him. Your youngest one. Short, dark-haired.”

Terry clenches his teeth. Not that fucker. It’s his fault he got thrown in here in the first place. Him and his… Terry can’t say the word. All he knows is that as soon as he’s out, he’s going to find Mickey and he’s going to kill him. No way in hell is Mickey going to tarnish the Milkovich name by being a faggot. Terry won’t allow it. He’s managed to squash down any rumors that popped up in the joint, saying that his son had been ambushed by a drunk faggot, and not specifiy that his son  _ is  _ a faggot. Milkovich men fuck pussies, not get fucked by dicks. 

“Mikhailo, right?” Doug says when Terry doesn’t respond. 

“Yeah,” Terry manages out. 

“Well, he was behind the register. Guess he’s got a real job now. Anyway, there was a baby with him.”

Terry raises his eyebrows. “A baby?”

“Yup. A drooling baby with a pink hair bow. Was trying to get a good look at her, mentioned she would be a good cocksucker someday with her lips, and your boy pulled a gun out on me.”

“My boy. Mickey.”  _ The faggot. _

“Yeah. Yelled at me until I got out of there. Thought it was… interesting. Didn’t know he had a girl.”

“Didn’t know either,” Terry responded, his mind running. If Mickey had a baby, that meant he fucked a girl. Which meant… he wasn’t a shirt-lifter. Maybe Terry had gotten things wrong. Maybe Mickey  _ had  _ been attacked by a faggot. That meant that Terry was in here for nothing. 

“That makes you a grandfather, doesn’t it?” Doug says, his eyes twinkling. 

“Huh.” That didn’t occur to Terry. “Guess so.” He’s never had a grandchild before. He would prefer a grandson, but he supposes a granddaughter would do just fine. “That all you came to say?” He needs a smoke. 

“Nah,” Doug says, and crosses one leg over another, checking his watch. “I got 2 more minutes. There’s been rumors, Terry, going around the old gang. People say they keep seeing your youngest boy with some redhead. Another boy.”

Terry’s mouth goes dry. The faggot he beat up was a redhead. 

“Say they’re doing faggoty stuff together,” Doug continues. “Ol’ Bill says he saw your boy holding hands with him, walking down the street in clear daylight. And, I can’t help but remember, your wife’s name was Lebedev, right?”

“That’s right,” Terry says slowly, squinting at Doug. He needs to decide if he’s going to have to throw around some threats, or if Doug is smart enough to keep his mouth, and others’ mouths, for that matter, shut. 

“Didn’t the Lebedev family have that one carrier boy?”

The pieces fall together in Terry’s mind.

Mickey has a baby. Mickey is a faggot. Mickey is related to a carrier. 

He jumps up, rage shooting through him. “

“Fuck you, faggot!” he spits out at Doug. Guards are on him instantly, wrestling him away from the glass, jerking the phone out of his hand. But Terry doesn't care. “Fuck you!” He’s dragged out of the visitor room, and shoved back into his cell. It’s thankfully empty, his roommate gone. 

His mind runs. No way did Mickey push out a kid. No fucking way. He’s a fucking Milkovich, for fuck’s sake. Terry starts pacing. If it really is true, then he won’t allow this. Mickey isn’t going to tarnish the Milkovich name by having a faggoty, carrier baby. He won’t let him. Terry knows he’s going to put a stop to Mickey, to that ginger rectum boy, and to their fucking spawn. 

He starts to plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh……..
> 
> Also, I feel like I kind of deprived you from Aileen in this chapter, so there will definitely be more of her next time.


	4. The Helpful Gallaghers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re visiting a Milkovich sister no one’s ever heard of in Milwaukee?” Ian clarifies as he helps Lip take the tarp down from the ancient ice cream truck.   
> “Uh, correct,” Lip replies.   
> “And you’re gonna do what?”  
> “We are going to evaluate her well-being and if need be, rescue her.”  
> Ian thinks about that for a second. “You mean kidnap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry in advance for the many POV changes. I kinda wanted to get different opinions during this chapter.

“Jesus,” Ian says as he stares up at Aileen, holding her high above his head. “I can’t believe she’s 6 months now.”

He and Mickey are relaxing in their room, laying down on their bed. Mickey’s curled up next to Ian, watching him as he brings Aileen down to his face, presses a kiss to her cheek, then raises her up into the air again. 

She loves it. She squeals and waves her hands in the air, letting out a loud “Ba!” whenever Ian does it. She’s learned _B_ now, and _M,_ and Ian’s heart thuds when he realizes that soon she’ll be able to say “Dada” and “Papa.”

“Yeah, seems like I just pushed her out of my ass,” Mickey says, and Ian scoffs. 

“Way to ruin the mood, Mick.”

“Fuck off, bitch,” Mickey replies, but there’s no real heat behind it. 

“Uh!” Aileen says, turning towards Mickey and stretching her arms out. 

“You want Daddy?” Ian coos, transferring her over to Mickey, who sits up and places Aileen between his legs. She can sit up by herself, now too, although she sometimes needs help, like today, when she grabs a hold of Mickey’s hand, steadying herself. 

Ian can’t help but smile. It’s amazing, watching his daughter grow from a tiny, sleeping potato to a baby that can babble and reach for things that she shouldn’t- like the box of cigarettes Mickey left out on their bed. 

“Uh-uh!” Ian says, taking it away from her reach. She pouts for about 3 seconds, but then gets distracted with playing with the blanket, scrunching it up between her tiny fingers and leaning down to put it in her mouth. 

That’s another thing she loves doing. Anything she has in her hand, will also go in her mouth. Mickey takes the bedding out of her mouth and grabs her by her armpits, lifting her up to rest her on her feet. 

“We should start feeding her solids soon,” Ian says absentmindedly, and Mickey groans. 

“Fuck, we gotta do that, don’t we?”

They currently have her on a diet of Mickey’s milk and formula. Mickey’s milk supply is dwindling down, and the formula they buy is so fucking expensive, Ian figures they should try to start her on real food to save some money. His parenting book says babies should start to wean by month 6, anyway. 

Aileen gets bored with standing and lifts her legs up, so Mickey sets her down on her rump. 

“Hand me the dog,” he says to Ian, who leans over and grabs the ancient, stuffed dog Carl had played with when he was little. 

“Look at the doggie!” Mickey says when Ian gives it to him, turning to focus on Aileen. Her blue eyes track the stuffed animal as Mickey drags it through the air, and she reaches out, her hands closing around it and letting out a proud “Muh!”

“You got it,” Mickey praises, letting her grab the toy from him. “You talk to Linda about getting more hours when school gets out?” he asks Ian. 

Ian nods. “Yeah, she said I can start with more hours next week.” School’s almost over, and Ian’s going to go back to working at the Kash N’ Grab more than Mickey, rather than vice versa, because he gets paid more by Linda. He can’t wait for school to be finally out. Junior year was hell- too much homework. During the summer, they’ll be able to make more money and spend more time with Aileen. 

Aileen plays with the stuffed dog while Ian makes it dance around the bed for only a little bit later, before she gets fidgety and starts to whimper. Her bottom lip quivers, and she stares up at Mickey. 

“Aw, fuck,” Mickey sighs. “Not again.”

She’s teething, and it’s been hell. Ian had just gotten used to her sleeping through the night, and getting a glorious full night of sleep, but then she started waking up in the middle of the night, crying and in pain. It hurts him to see his daughter this way. Aileen squirms and her mouth falls open, and Ian can see a faint bit of white on her bottom gum. 

“Wanna get the teether?” Mickey says, scooping Aileen up in his arms and cuddling her close to his chest. 

“Sure,” Ian says, stroking a hand over her soft hair before making his way downstairs. Carl’s eating crackers, Fiona’s at work, and Debbie’s watching TV in the living room with Liam. Lip’s over at the Milkovich house; he’s been spending some time there after another Fiona and Mandy fall out. 

“Afternoon,” he says to Carl, walking over to the freezer and grabbing the banana-shaped teether Mickey had stolen when Ian wasn’t looking. 

“Guess what!” Carl says. “Frank’s taking me to camp!”

Ian has no idea how Frank managed to pull that one off. He just nods and ruffles Carl’s buzzed head. “Congrats, bud. At least one of us should go.”

Aileen’s full on crying when Ian makes his way back to their room, and Mickey looks grumpy, trying to wrestle a squirming infant. 

“Couldn’t have gotten it faster?” he snaps at Ian, grabbing the teether. He shoves it in Aileen’s mouth, and her whimpers start to fade as she sucks. As she’s now distracted, Mickey eases her off his lap, and she rolls onto her back. 

Ian grabs his school textbooks from his bag and sets them on their bed. “Hey, wanna help me study for my final tomorrow?” 

“What subject?” Mickey asks. 

“Physics.” 

Mickey lets out a long-suffering sigh. 

After a long week of finals, Ian’s finally, _finally_ free. On his first official day of summer, he and Mickey take Aileen outside, letting her roll around in the grass, but keeping a strict eye on her so she doesn’t eat grass. She’s already got her tetanus shot, but you can never be too safe. 

Over June, they feed her disgusting smelling baby food. The first day was the hardest. She spit out every single spoonful of smushed carrots and apple sauce they fed her, more interested in chewing on their hands than the spoon. They do it slowly, only feeding her once a day every other day, and it takes a while before she finally swallows down sweet potato mush. 

"God, fucking finally," Mickey groaned then, but he was grinning. After that, things go pretty smoothly. They feed her one jar of baby food each day for lunch, with milk in the morning and evening and for a mid afternoon snack, either from the bottle or Mickey, depending on how he's feeling. 

Ian enjoys working at the Kash N’ Grab more. It gives him something other than school to do, and it brings in more money. 

“Fucking bringing home the bacon, huh?” Mickey said when Ian got back home one day, and Ian grinned and rolled on top of him later, shoving him into their bed with his cock while Mandy played with Aileen. 

The only downside of Aileen getting older is less sex. She’s awake more now, and always demanding attention between teething and getting herself into trouble. Both Mickey and Ian have to keep an eye on her every move now. So, sex is a rarity again but they savor every moment of it. And as much as Ian loves fucking, the longer he goes without it, the more awesome it seems when he finally slides into Mickey. 

Fiona drags down the fans from the attic and sets them all over the house as the hot Chicago summer comes. Frank’s back to sleeping in the house, but thankfully him and everybody else has managed to reach an agreement- Frank sleeps in Lip’s bed when he’s not there, otherwise, on the couch. Ian supposes Frank isn’t so bad, as he’s more often than not outside of the house, doing God knows what. 

He’s there the morning Carl goes away to his summer camp, though, sitting at the table and smoking. 

“You all packed up?” Ian asks Carl as he makes his way downstairs for breakfast. 

“Yup,” Carl replies, as Frank shushes them. 

“What’s Hymie doing here?” Fiona asks. Sure enough, Karen’s Asian baby is sleeping in his carrier in their kitchen. 

“I’m babysitting,” Frank replies. 

“Oh, is Sheila popping pills again?” Ian asks, grabbing the OJ out of the fridge. Mickey is upstairs with Aileen, who wouldn’t stop crying from teething pain, and had demanded Ian bring him breakfast. 

“Sheila happens to think very highly of my ability to raise bright, independent children,” Frank says defiantly, turning to Ian. Ian can’t help but laugh at that. 

“You’re not leaving Hymie here, Frank,” Fiona snaps. “Debbie can’t take care of a special needs kid on top of daycare.”

Now that she’s out of school, Debbie’s rebirthed her sketchy neighborhood daycare, and has somehow managed to convince Mickey to help out, with the promise of giving him 10% of her profit. Ian knows it’s not just the money, but the notion that he doesn’t want to leave Aileen with Debbie when she has a dozen other babies to look after. 

“Challenges foster growth! You can’t prevent Debbie from an opportunity to grow!” Frank protests, guestering around him, making it clear that he just doesn't want to watch the baby anymore. 

“Not happening,” Fiona insists. Ian grabs two bowls out from the cupboard as Fiona suddenly realizes that Carl is cutting up sheets. “Carl, what are you doing?”

“Making a sleeping bag.”

“These are Lip’s sheets!”

“Not anymore.”

“Alright,” Ian intervenes. “Take my ROTC sleeping bag, huh?”

“Really?” Carl asks. 

“Yeah, I’ll grab it from upstairs.” He checks on Aileen, who’s whimpering softly as she chews on her ice-cold teether, and hands Mickey his bowl of cereal, before grabbing his heavy-duty sleeping bag from the big bedroom’s closet. He spies his old ROTC duffle from his camping trip last year that he never unpacked from, and grabs the stuff he left inside, deciding to give them to Carl, too. 

He finds his brother on the living room couch, and plops the sleeping bag down next to him. 

“Wow,” Carl says. “Thanks, Ian.”

“And I got a couple more things for camp, too.” He holds them up for Carl to see. “Bug spray and Swiss Army knife. For comfort and convenience.” Carl reaches out to grab them, but he holds them just out of his reach. “ _Not_ as weapons.” He puts them down on his sleeping bag, and grabs the back of Carl’s head, pulling him in to kiss his forehead. “See you in a week, pal,” he says. 

***

They’re in the middle of fucking when the phone rings. Mandy doesn't give a shit, until she hears a tentative voice come on, and _holy fuck_. It’s Molly. Her half-sister.

Mandy hasn’t heard anything about her since Terry brought her home when she was just a baby. But apparently, now her crack-head mother has died, and Molly’s begging to be brought to Terry. Who’s in jail right now, and Mandy knows her brothers don’t give two shits about their half sister. 

“So this sister,” Lip says when they finish fucking and are sitting outside on Mandy’s porch in the heat of the day. 

“Half,” Mandy interrupts. 

“She’s just, uh, waiting somewhere for someone to go pick her up?”

“In Milwaukee.”

“You gonna do it?” Lip asks. 

“No,” Mandy says. The fuck does she care? She hasn’t seen her in nearly 7 years. She’d be surprised if the kid remembers her name. 

“So you think, I don’t know, you think maybe you should call her?” he presses. “Tell her he’s in jail and not coming?”

Mandy glances over at Lip. “No call answers that question just as good as a call does,” she scoffs. 

“So you're cool with your sister going into the foster care system?”

Mandy shrugs. “Well, the system is better than here.” She’ll never understand the undying loyalty the Gallaghers have for each other. Sure, she cares about her siblings, but she supposes not enough to drive to fucking Milwaukee to pick up her kid half-sister. The Milkoviches have always had to figure shit out on their own, and they’re fine. Mostly. 

“Yeah, says the girl who has miraculously never been in the system,” Lip rebutts. 

Mandy swallows hard. Lip doesn’t know it, but there have been times when she wishes someone would come and take her away, take her to some other family. She doesn’t care if they make her pray 5 times a day, she had just wanted to get away from this family. When she realized her father didn’t give a shit about her when she was 7, when Iggy went to jail for the first time when she was 9, when her mother died when she was 13, and a year later, when her father put his hands on her for the first time. 

“She have any other relatives?” Lip asks. 

“Who knows. Look, it sucks, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

They’re silent for a moment, before Lip speaks again. “She sounded desperate.” Mandy can feel his gaze on her. “You know, let’s see if we can get her, see if we can help.”

“Help how?” Mandy asks. 

“I don’t know, maybe locate the rest of her family?” 

“How are we gonna do that?”

Lip shrugs and laughs awkwardly. “I don’t know, drive up there figure it out.”

And Mandy can’t help the smile that’s spreading across her face. Lip’s eyes are shining in the light, and he wants to help her family? He’s willing to take time out of his day to help her? No guy has ever done that before for her. 

“In the car that neither of us have,” Mandy says. 

“She’s your sister.”

“Half.”

Mandy finally lets Lip convince her to rescue Molly, and she knows exactly why she does it. Because of Lip’s smile and how Molly seems exactly like her. 

***

“You’re visiting a Milkovich sister no one’s ever heard of in Milwaukee?” Ian clarifies as he helps Lip take the tarp down from the ancient ice cream truck. 

“Uh, correct,” Lip replies. 

“And you’re gonna do what?”

“We are going to evaluate her well-being and if need be, rescue her.”

Ian thinks about that for a second. “You mean kidnap.”

“Uh, provide transport to a safer haven.”

“Kid...nap?,” Ian draws out. 

“Rescue!” They drag down the second tarp from the front of the truck. 

“Bad idea.”

“Look, a kid’s in trouble, we’re gonna help!” Lip climbs into the truck, signifying the argument over. Aileen coos from her stroller parked under the shade, and Ian checks on her. Her face splits into a grin when she sees him. He waves at her, then joins Lip in the truck. 

“Crossing state lines to bring a minor back to the Milkovich House of Horrors seems more like abuse.”

“Look, her mother’s dead, she’s home alone, and she’s scared,” Lip says. 

“Welcome to the predictable consequences of using crystal meth,” Ian deadpans. 

Lip tries to start the truck, and the engine stalls for a while before it finally starts. 

“Have you ever driven this thing for more than 4 consecutive miles?” Ian shouts over the roar of the engine. Lip ignores him and pumps the gas pedal. Ian jumps out of the truck as Lip manages to get it up to a slow crawl, the engine backfiring like crazy as he pulls out of the back lot. 

Ian turns to Aileen, who’s laughing. 

“This is a great idea,” he says to her. 

“You never told me you had another sister,” Ian says to Mickey, wheeling Aileen’s stroller up beside the register in the Kash N’ Grab. 

“I have another sister?” Mickey says, brow furrowing as he moves from behind the desk and unclips Aileen from the stoller, lifting her up and bouncing her on his hip while she giggles. 

“Molly,” Ian calls over his shoulder as he grabs a 6-pack of beer from the fridge. “She’s a half sister, lives in Milwaukee with her crackhead mother?”

Mickey thinks for a minute and sets Aileen on the counter. “Oh shit, yeah. I forgot about her. I’ve never seen her before, though. Only Mandy has. Hi, princess,” he coos to Aileen, letting her grab onto his fingers. 

Ian sets the beer on the counter and rings himself up. “Well, Mandy and Lip are going to get her and bring her back here.”

“What the fuck for?”

“Apparently her mother died, and she has no other family besides Terry.”

Mickey scoffs. “Terry’s in jail. How the fuck are they going to take care of her?”

Ian shrugs and grabs his receipt. “Beats me.” He throws the pack of beer in the bottom of Aileen’s stroller. “I gotta get back to the house, make sure Debbie hasn’t drowned yet.” He grabs Aileen and straps her back into the stroller. 

“Uh!” she protests, holding her hands out to Mickey.

“I know, I know,” Mickey says, gently booping her on the nose. “But you’ll see me again very soon. Debbie still trying to hold her breath for 2 minutes?”

“Yeah. Probably for the better, though. Bitches at the public pool really would try to drown her. Later.”

Mickey waves good-bye to Aileen as Ian wheels her stroller back out into the summer sun. 

***

Molly chats the whole ride home, telling them about her school, and her mother’s parties, and how she’s so excited to stay with Mandy. Mandy can’t help but glance at Lip the entire ride, because he’s helping her. No one ever helps Mandy Milkovich without getting something for themselves. Except for Lip. 

They take Molly to the Gallagher house first, because Mandy has no idea if her brothers are chain-smoking, or watching porn, or having a party, and she doesn’t want to risk getting her kid half-sister even more traumatized than she already is. Fiona’s there, of course, and openly judges Mandy with her face when Lip introduces her to Molly. 

“You guys, I’m up to 75 seconds!” Debbie announces then, bursting in through the back door with Ian and Liam. 

“Doing what, Debs?” Lip asks. 

“Prepping to be drowned in the city pool,” Ian replies, shutting the door and then petting Aileen, who’s sitting up in a high chair, playing with some of her toys. 

“Cool,” says Lip. “Debs, this is Molly, Mandy’s sister. Can you show her the bathroom, please?”

Debbie nods, and starts towards the stairs with Liam on her hip. “You have a sister?” she says to Mandy. 

Mandy just nods, because she’s done explaining the Molly situation. They meet Mickey in the hallway, his hair still damp from his shower. 

“This Molly?” he asks. 

“Yeah. Molly, this is my brother, Mickey,” Mandy says, guestering to him. Molly grins up at him, but Mickey looks unimpressed. 

“Cool,” he says after a second, then makes his way downstairs. 

Later that night, Lip convinces Debbie to let Mandy and Molly sleep on her bed. Mandy sets her half-sister up, and Lip pokes his head in. 

“I’ll just be down the hall,” he says to Molly. “Um, you might hear some sirens and stuff during the night, but you’ll be safe… Okay. Good night.” He nods at the two of them, and turns to leave, but Mandy gets up as Debbie comes in. 

“Here you go, change of underwear and a nightgown.”

“I’ll be back in a second, Molly,” Mandy says to her, before going after Lip. 

No one’s cared about her before. But Lip does. And… fuck, it does things to her stomach. Messes her up. Makes her think that maybe, maybe, _maybe,_ she can have a future. 

“Thanks,” she says to Lip, stopping him in the hall. 

“Yeah, no, no worries,” he scoffs out. He sniffs, and they stare at each other, and the fluttering in her stomach builds and builds and she grabs his face and presses their lips together. 

Their mouths slot together as if they were made for each other, but she has to pull back when she hears footsteps coming up the stairs. Because she knows who that is. 

“Night,” Lip says quietly. Mandy repeats it back to him, then moves into the bathroom. Fuck, everything would be so fucking _perfect,_ if it weren’t for fucking Fiona. 

***

Mickey and Ian are helping Fiona clean up from her coworker party she had. Apparently, her boss is making her coworkers suck him off to keep their jobs. It reminds Mickey of Kash and makes his lip curl. Aileen’s sleeping soundly in her bassinet, and once they’re done, Mickey and Ian are going to bring her upstairs to get ready for bed. 

Apparently Mickey has a sister now. Fuck, that’s weird. He’s only ever known Mandy as his sister, and, bitchy though she may be, he’s fine with the one he’s got. He doesn't need another one. He’s not a Gallagher. Not really. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the front door bursting open, and Jimmy stumbling in with… fucking Ned? The guy who paid Ian for a date and he beat up? He’s stumbling, looking drunk, very drunk, and Ian and Mickey exchange a glance. 

“Hey, Fiona! You-you’ve met my father?” Jimmy says quickly and awkwardly. 

“Hello,” Fiona says, frowning. Ned salutes her, then turns to Ian, who’s the closest to him, and tilts his head. Mickey clenches his fists. _He better shut his fat fucking mouth-_ and then Ned tries to take a step towards Ian, then stumbles, falling down in the vague direction of the conveniently placed couch while Ian jumps out of his way. 

“Ian, a little help here?” Jimmy asks, oblivious, as his father crashes into the coffee table. Ian helps Jimmy get his father onto the couch, then backs the hell away. As he should. 

“Yeah, we were at the Alibi, we had a few,” Jimmy says quietly to Fiona while trying to shove his drunk father’s legs on the couch. 

Fiona nods. “I’ll get a pillow and a blanket,” she says helpfully. 

Jimmy glances over at Ian and Mickey, who move towards the kitchen at the same time. Ian scoops up Aileen from her bassinet, startling her a little bit, and they both get the hell upstairs. 

“Jesus, fuck,” Ian breathes out when they’re in the safety of their own room. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Mickey spits out. He hates the fucking guy, for obvious reasons. 

Ian spreads his hands and places Aileen on their bed to change her into her sleeper. “How the fuck should I know?”

“Did he fucking stalk you?” Mickey spits out. Oh, he’s going to put a bullet between the pedo’s brain. 

“No, look, Mick, he’s Jimmy’s dad,” Ian says, sighing. “Probably just came to see Jimmy.”

“Uh-huh, right,” Mickey scoffs out, grabbing Aileen’s snow white sleeper and throwing it at Ian. “Not a chance. Pedophiles like him always want something else.”

***

Once they’ve made sure Jimmy’s dad is comfortable, they tiptoe their way upstairs. The Gallagher house is full tonight. Literally a dozen people under one roof. Fiona just thanks god that Frank isn’t there. 

“My parents are getting a divorce,” is the first thing Jimmy says when he sits down heavily on their bed. Fiona starts to change for bed. 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she asks as she strips off her shirt and starts to unzip her pants. 

“I mean, now I’m gonna have to spend more time with both of them, so… not good. Listen, I-I’m sorry that I brought him here, it’s just he was in a state, and we were right around the corner, and…” he trails off with a chuckle, and Fiona stares at him. God, he’s being so fucking cute right now. With his smile and his hands held up hopelessly. 

Fiona moves in on him. Maybe she shouldn’t have chastised Lip for playing house with another person. Because it feels pretty fucking good when you’re playing it yourself. The way he thought to bring his father to the place he’s been living… fuck, it’s like they’re a fucking family. 

Fiona takes back the time she complained about Jimmy lazing around the house and taking care of the kids. She fucking loves him like this.

She moves close to him and pulls her sock back, hitting him on the shoulder with it. He laughs and tries to grab it from her, but she holds it out of his reach. She shoves him down on the bed, and can feel herself pulsing between her legs. 

“Let’s end this day right,” she says, crawling over him and leaning down, pressing their lips together. 

***

Ian settles Aileen down to bed while Mickey goes to brush his teeth. He leans over her crib while she stares up at him, kicking her legs gently. 

“Hi, Aileen,” he coos, reaching down to pat her tummy. “You gonna let Daddy and I have a good night’s sleep?” She gurgles. That probably means no. Ian gently traces the side of her head, and she turns her face into his palm, her clumsy fingers reaching out to grab his wrist. 

He smiles down at her; he loves her so fucking much. God, he would do anything for her. Anything for her to grow into the best version she can be. He’s staring into her blue eyes that are identical to Mickey’s when he hears a shout come from the end of the hall. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” 

Then a loud thump. 

“Shit,” Ian curses, jumping up and poking his head out of the hall. The door to the big room where Lip, Carl, and Liam sleep is open and the light is on. 

“Who the fuck are you!?” Lip’s screaming at Ned, who’s on the floor… naked. 

“It’s Jimmy’s dad,” Ian reassures him. 

“What’s going on?” Fiona says, bursting into the room, then stopping short when she sees old man dick. “Oh!” 

“Woah! Dad, where’s your clothes?” Jimmy asks, coming in right behind her. 

“I was- I was gonna take a shower,” Ned slurs. “I came into the wrong room.”

“Yeah, then you hopped up in my bed with a full chub!” Lip shouts as Jimmy brushes past them, grabbing a blanket off the floor. 

“What?” Jimmy and Fiona say at the same time, disbelief etched on both of their faces. 

“Jimmy’s dad just tried to go balls deep on me!” 

“Uh, no, no, I didn’t,” Ned insists as Jimmy wraps a blanket around him. 

“Well then why’d you grab my sack?!” Lip screams, and the door opens up again, this time with Mandy, Debbie, Molly, and Mickey. 

“Alright, okay,” Fiona sighs as Jimmy picks Ned off the floor, wrapped in a blanket, and leads him out. Ian doesn’t miss the way Ned stares at him as he passes him. 

“Is everything alright?” Debbie asks. 

“Doesn’t seem to be,” Fiona replies. Mickey brushes past them and into the room, sneering at Ned. Mandy ushers the younger girls back to bed. 

Mickey raises an eyebrow at Ian, who sighs. Okay, maybe agreeing to be a sugar baby for one day for Jimmy’s dad wasn’t the best idea in retrospect. 

“Are you sure?” Fiona asks Lip tentatively. 

“When you feel a full chub poking you in the back, the meaning’s pretty clear,” Lip snaps back. 

“His dad was looking for me,” Ian blurts out, and Lip and Fiona turn to stare at him. Ian sighs. “I agreed to let him take me on a date once… for money.”

“You’ve been screwing Jimmy’s dad?” Fiona asks hushedly, moving closer. 

“Not screwing,” Mickey snaps out, crossing his arms over his chest. “We needed the money, and he was willing to give it to us for a date. The only one Ian sticks his dick in is me.”

Ian blinks at Mickey’s bluntness, and Fiona just sighs. Ian can feel Lip’s gaze burning into him and when he glances over at his brother, he looks disgusted. Fiona leaves to talk to Jimmy, and Lip speaks up. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Jesus,” Ian sighs, rolling his eyes. “Nothing is fucking wrong with me, alright? It’s like Mickey said. We were running low on money and he offered to pay me if I went on a date with him. We didn’t even do anything. All it was was sitting down at eating. If it makes you feel any better, we beat him up afterwards.”

“You mean I beat him up,” Mickey grunts out. 

Lip just shakes his head, and Mickey grabs his arm, dragging him away. He slams the door to their room with an exasperated “fuck” and goes to check on Aileen. 

“She fell asleep,” Mickey scoffs. Ian nods and moves over to his side of the bed, pulling the blankets down and getting into bed. 

“No more fucking old guys,” Mickey demands as he switches off the light and crawls in beside Ian. Ian lifts up his arm, letting Mickey settle his head on his chest. 

“Is that no more fucking old guys, or no more _fucking_ old guys?”

“Either way, smartass,” Mickey grumbles. “And I mean it, okay? No more Kashes, no more Neds.”

Ian runs a hand through his hair because he knows that as much as Mickey doesn't want to admit it, it calms him down. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers out. “I swear, no more fucking old guys. In every sense of the word.”

Mickey hums, satisfied, and wraps as arm around Ian’s waist, snuggling deeper down into the blankets. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has a very safe but fun New Year's and I hope that 2021 will be a million times better than 2020. I'm planning on having the next chapter up by Sunday or Monday, so stay tuned!


	5. The Sins of My Caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey,” Ian shouts up to him between shots. He pauses to listen. “Ned wants me to sneak into his mansion, take all of his crap.”   
> “Really,” Mickey draws out, taking the cigarette from his mouth. “Hi-larious.” Shot.

Mickey’s roused to voices right outside his and Ian’s bedroom, and lets out an annoyed groan, shoving his head under the pillow. Can’t he get just a few more minutes of sleep? Ian shifts next to him and sighs out “Sleeping.”

The voices get louder and Mickey identifies them as Mandy and Lip before Ian springs up, throwing the blankets off him and getting out of bed. 

“Jesus,” Ian groans, throwing the door open. “Other people exist, maybe?”

Lip and Mandy shoot him a glare, and Ian slams the door on them.

“This house is too fucking full, man,” Mickey complains, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Even his house isn’t as full as the Gallaghers’ is, with a rotating door of people in prison. Now there’s Fiona and Jimmy, Debbie, Carl, Liam, Lip, and Mandy, and now Molly. At least Jimmy kicked Ned out last night, or Mickey would have done it himself in a much less nice manner. 

“At least we don’t have to make breakfast,” Ian replies.

“I don’t know, I still have to make breakfast for someone,” Mickey says, tugging the blankets up over their pillows in a half-assed attempt to make the bed. Ian frowns at him as he grabs a clean shirt, not getting it. Mickey jerks his head over at Aileen, and Ian rolls his eyes. 

“That’s stupid,” he says. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey grumbles out and picks up a random pair of jeans off of the floor. Ian picks Aileen up from her crib. She’s awake, smiling around the pink transparent pacifier in her mouth. Ian coos at her, and she waves her arms around, burbling when he puts her on his shoulder. She stares at Mickey with her huge, blue eyes and shoves her fist in her mouth. 

“Morning, princess,” he says to her as Ian brings her over to her dresser, laying her down and changing her diaper quickly. Mickey stretches until his spine pops and hears the sounds of the rest of the Gallaghers waking up- Fiona clattering around in the kitchen, Carl stomping around in the bathroom. 

“Wanna feed her?” Ian asks, picking Aileen up by her armpits and setting her on her rump. He’s dressed her in a mauve onesie with a simple rose on the front. It’s sweet, and goes well with her skin, if Mickey does say so himself. She grabs a hold of Ian’s wrists, playing with his watch before Mickey scoops her up. 

“You feeling hungry?” he coos to her as Ian tugs a shirt over his chest and heads to the bathroom. 

Mickey settles on their bed, his back pressed up against the wall, and tugs the tank he slept in up to his chin, cradling Aileen into his chest. She latches on easily, her little fingers pressing into his flesh as she nurses. Mickey plays with her soft head of hair, running the short, light brown strands through his fingers. 

They’ve reached a sort of compromise- Mickey feeds her for a short time as soon as she wakes up, then they all head downstairs and make up a bottle for her using the expensive formula shit. It stops Aileen from crying with hunger first thing in the morning, yet deals with Mickey’s decreasing milk supply. 

“Can’t wait until I get my nipples back to myself,” he says to her as Ian comes in, face washed and teeth brushed. He takes her from Mickey while Mickey uses the bathroom, then the 3 of them make their way into the kitchen, just as Fiona screams, “Lip, Ian, Mickey, come down here a sec?”

“Christ, does she always have to yell?” Mickey mumbles to Ian, adjusting Aileen on his hip. 

“Okay, listen up Gallaghers… and Milkoviches. They’re digging up the sewer main in a few days and shutting the water off, so we need to-” Mandy steals a piece of Fiona’s toast and she pauses to glare at her- “Do laundry and dishes beforehand.”

“What about toilets?” Jimmy asks from where he’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring down at his cup of coffee. 

“I guess we just won’t flush, then,” Fiona replies with the enthusiasm of a preschool teacher. Mickey scoffs and grabs the container of formula powder one-handed. Ian takes water from the counter and pours it in a mug while Mickey takes a clean bottle from the cabinet. 

“Well, we could fill up buckets,” Lip throws in from the table. 

“Gross,” Debbie declares. 

Ian warms up the water as Mickey scoops the powder into the bottle, then when the microwave goes off, Ian leans over and fills up Aileen’s bottle with warm water. Mickey puts the cap on and shakes the bottle before testing the temperature on the back of his hand. Deciding that it’s the right temperature, he hands it to Aileen, who grabs it with both her hands and fits the nipple in her mouth, starting to suck. 

With Aileen still on his hip, Mickey grabs a bowl of cereal as Fiona once again makes a snide comment about Lip and Mandy. 

“Wait, they’re digging up the lawn?” Debbie asks. 

“Yeah,” Fiona says. 

“What about Aunt Ginger?”

The room goes silent, and Mickey shoots a confused look at Ian. Who the fuck is Aunt Ginger? 

“Incoming!” Debbie says as someone knocks on the door, her day care starting up for the day, and marches over into the dining room to grab her stuff. Lip begins to clean up Liam’s tray as Mickey makes his way over to the kitchen, placing Aileen on his knee as he eats his breakfast. 

“I’ll be back for dinner,” Fiona announces, leaning over to peck Jimmy on the cheek. “Buck up, kiddo.”

“No biggie, just my universe is falling apart,” Jimmy says after her as she leaves the house with Debbie. Lip goes to change Liam, and Mickey doesn't miss the way Jimmy eyes Ian strangely. Jesus Christ, is he still on about his dad being gay? He needs to grow the fuck up. That happened two days ago, he should be over it by now. 

Jimmy plops himself down at the kitchen table, his cup of coffee forgotten as he takes to staring out into space. Mickey studies him. He looks dead. Ian munches on his toast, still in his boxers, the lazy fucker. 

Then Jimmy’s gaze turns to Ian. More specifically, Ian’s crotch. 

“You’re not trying to look at my dick, are you?” Ian demands suddenly. 

That shakes Jimmy out of his gaze. “No, no, I’m not,” he insists. “I’m not even thinking about your dick. In my dad’s mouth. I’m not.”

“Good, then don’t,” Ian snaps. “I’m going to change.” He gets up and makes his way up the stairs, as Carl says, “Ian’s dick was in your dad’s mouth?”

Jimmy laughs nervously. “It’s a figure of speech. It’s like saying… none of your business… your dick’s in my dad’s mouth, man.”

“Who says that?” Carl asks, confused. 

Mickey rubs between his eyebrows. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. They’re going to give him a headache. 

“Gay dudes,” Jimmy responds. 

“Is that what gay people like to do?” the kid says, glancing at Mickey. Mickey just glares back at him. He does not want to have _the talk_ with Ian’s little brother. 

Apparently Jimmy has the same idea he does, because he says, “Jesus, forget it,” and gets up, only to be interrupted by Frank, coming in from the backyard with a solid line of orange paint running down his body. Mickey shakes his head and grabs his bowl, hoisting Aileen up further on his hip, and deposits it in the sink. 

The kids from Debbie’s day care have started to arrive, loud and screaming as Mandy, Lip, and Molly try to wrangle them. Mickey finds Ian in their bedroom, changing for the day. 

“I guess I’ll see you later,” Ian says, pressing a kiss to Aileen’s head. “Gonna head off to work now.”

“Jimmy’s an asshole,” Mickey declares, setting Aileen down on their bed. Ian laughs. 

“Yeah, I agree with that.”

Mickey hears Frank call up the stairs for Ian, but he ignores him, opting to pull Mickey in for a kiss instead, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. Mickey lets Ian cage him in, he lets him wrap an arm around his waist, pulling their bodies flush against one another. 

Mickey remembers a time when he would’ve shoved Ian off for this, would’ve punched him in his stupid fucking face and kicked him in the balls. Now though, he reaches up a hand to cup the side of his face, tilting his head to get a better angle. It amazes him how so much can change in a year and a half. It also amazes him how no matter how many times they kiss, Ian never fails to make his legs wobbly and his heart warm. 

They’re interrupted by Aileen babbling at them from their bed, and Ian pulls back with a laugh and tickles Aileen under her chin. 

“Have fun at daycare,” Ian says to Mickey, giving one last squeeze to his waist. 

“Uh-huh, have fun at the most boring place on earth,” Mickey fires back at him as Ian leaves their room. 

Mickey does not have fun helping out with daycare. 

***

And Ian does not have fun at work. 

He’s stacking a new shipment of Campbell’s soup when he suddenly hears, “Don’t know what it is, Red, but, uh, I feel less alone in the world, knowing I can drive across town and find you here, bent over cans of chicken stock.”

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten involved with Jimmy’s dad in the first place. He should never have agreed to go on a date with him. Because if after showing up drunk at the Gallagher house and trying to bone Lip and then getting kicked out, he’s still trying to hit up Ian, what else does he have the potential to do?

Ian stands up sharply and glares at him. 

Ned throws up his hands. “Look, I’m sorry. Truly.” Ian just raises an eyebrow and turns back to the shelves. “I just-” Ned lets out a breath. “Can you forgive a man who’s falling apart? A little?”

Ian stares at him. “What part of I have a boyfriend don’t you understand? Hell, you even met him and he beat the fuck out of you.”

Ned studies him, then asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Ian shoves the box of canned soup in his face. “No,” he draws out, pushing past him to the front of the store, bending over to grab large cans of tomato pate. 

“So listen, um, I need somebody to rob my house, and I’m hoping you could help.”

Ian pauses. What is this man on? Mickey was right. He should’ve shoved him away, far away. 

“You want me to rob your house?” he asks quietly. 

“Candance’s changed the locks on the house, _my goddamn house,_ and she won’t let me back in, so I need someone to steal my stuff.” He’s holding a strawberry and biting into it, and Ian just laughs and moves past him. “You know, if I do it, the neighbors might recognize me.” Ian takes a seat behind the cash register to put distance between him and Ned. 

Ned doesn't let up, though. “You go in during daylight hours, and you look like movers. It’ll be fine.” Ian really has no idea what he’s still doing here. It’s no wonder he’s broke if he throws $300 at boys a third of his age to go out on dates with him. “Look, she stays up ‘till 3 a.m. drinking Stoli vanilla and watching Boflex ads. She’ll be unconscious until… oh, well past noon.” 

Ian leans his hand against his face and sighs, glaring up at Ned. 

“Alright, this could be very lucrative for you,” he insists. “You can take anything you want, alright, it’s all insured! All I want are my 2 Armani suits by Lucien Freud, and my bottle of 1990 Chateau La Poire Prayak.” 

Ian tilts his head and leans back in his chair. Although he hates Ned, he has to admit, breaking into an old, rich guy’s house with permission is very appealing. Fuck, he’s been hanging around Mickey too much. This is a way to make fast, easy money, and he doesn’t have to go on any dates to do it. 

“Whadda say? Will you do it?” Ned presses, taking another bite of the strawberry. 

“Fine,” Ian says after a while. “But my boyfriend comes, too.”

Ned spreads his hands and grins. “Whatever gets you to my place!”

***

They’re washing dishes together that afternoon, Fiona scrubbing, Jimmy drying. The house is blissfully quiet for once, the kids are all out doing their own things. 

“Gloves?” Jimmy asks, nodding at the big, rubber gloves she’s wearing. 

“Got some cuts on my hands from work,” she responds. More like her bitchy coworkers put thumbtacks in her change drawer when she tried to step up about the fact that their boss is letting them keep their jobs in exchange for blowjobs. 

Fiona notices Jimmy’s been rubbing the towel over the bowl for the past few minutes, so she takes it from him gently. “I think it’s dry.”

Jimmy seems to snap to attention. “Oh, sorry.”

She puts it on the counter behind him and all of a sudden he says, “Oh my god. I just realized.” He turns to face her. “That huge fight that Dad had with Mr. Ward, my gay 7th-grade science teacher- I thought it was because of the crappy grade I got on my bread mold project-” _Jesus Christ._ Fiona turns back to the sink. “-But they kept excusing themselves to discuss it in private. I am _such_ an idiot.” 

Fiona lets out a long breath. It’s been two days, and Jimmy can’t get over the fact that her dad is gay. Gay for her little brother, no less. 

“And that wedding we went to in Hawaii when I was in high school,” he says when Fiona takes the trash out. “Me, Mom, and Chip went to bed earlier, and Dad stayed up dancing all night with the best man!” 

She’s in the shower, soaping up her hair and Jimmy’s sitting on the toilet seat, still going. “I guess what really gets me is that he couldn’t tell me the truth. I mean, did he think that I wouldn’t accept him or that I would think less of him? Why didn’t he trust me?” He pauses for a second. “Am I the only one who didn’t know? Does my brother know? Oh, I bet my brother knows. 

They don’t fuck that night because Jimmy “has too much going on in his head,” and they didn’t fuck that morning, either. Why can’t he just get over it? People are gay every day. 

Her frustrations with Jimmy boil over the next morning into the fact that Frank still hasn’t found the body of his dead aunt he buried in the backyard, and the sewage company is coming tomorrow to dig up the yard, and if they find bones, all the Gallaghers are going to jail. 

Frank is sleeping against the fence, and Fiona kicks him awake. 

“Enough with the kicking!” Frank yells as he jerks awake, flailing. “Christ!” 

“Where is she?” Fiona demands. 

Frank waves his hands in the air. “I can’t- I- I- I give up! I need sleep!” 

Fiona crouches down next to him. “Let me spell this out for you. The city digs up some bones, the police show up. They figure out it’s Aunt Ginger. They date the bones, they realize she’s been dead for _14 years_ , and yet her social security checks are being cashed every month. This isn't a DUI, Frank. You buried a body and you stole from the federal government. You will never get out of prison.”

Convinced she’s made her point, Fiona pats his hand. “Think about it,” she says, then gets up and goes to another day at her hellish job. 

***

Ian has a day off from work, so they take Aileen and go to some abandoned building where Ian’s training for ROTC. Mickey grabs the biggest noise-cancelling headphones he can find in the Gallagher house and his Ruger and before they make their way over there. 

He plops the headphones over Aileen’s ears and hands her a teething toy, which she immediately shoves in her mouth. Standing a ways away from her, Mickey test fires his Ruger, and is content when she doesn't even react. 

The building is decked out like a training course, with tires lying on the ground and barrels set up everywhere. Ian’s already dressed in his camo pants, and grabs a wooden gun that’s leaning up against a wall. Making sure that Aileen is entertained, Mickey climbs up on a wooden platform that acts like a second story, loading his gun and watching his boyfriend as he makes his way around the obstacle course. 

He lights a cigarette and sticks it between his lips, firing at the graffiti on the far wall. He’s out of practice- he hasn’t really had a chance since Aileen was born. His first few shots are way out of line with the dot of an “i” that he’s trying to hit, but his next few are better. 

“Hey,” Ian shouts up to him between shots. He pauses to listen. “Ned wants me to sneak into his mansion, take all of his crap.” 

“Really,” Mickey draws out, taking the cigarette from his mouth. “Hi-larious.” _Shot._

“He can’t get it himself,” Ian continues. “Cause of the divorce. Says I can take whatever I want- he’s loaded. You want in?”

Mickey clenches his fist. Fucking Ned. He aims his gun a few feet in front of Ian’s head as his boyfriend is now army crawling under a tin roof balanced on two barrels, and squeezes the trigger. Letting Ian know how he really feels about Ned. 

“Jesus!” Ian shouts when he’s done. “Use blanks, maybe?” He climbs out from under the roof, scrambling to his feet. 

“Can I bring my cousins?” Mickey asks. 

“Yeah,” Ian says breathily, dancing through the tires with his fake gun held above his head. 

“Alright,” Mickey decides. “I’m in.” _Shot_. “I don’t know what you see in that geriatric viagroid.”

“Nothing,” Ian says, coming to stand underneath Mickey. “Figured we should just milk him dry of his money while we can.”

 _Shot. Shot._ Mickey still doesn’t understand why Ian feels the need to go back to this guy again and a-fucking-gain. He grabs his cigarette from his mouth and lets the smoke billow out of his nostrils. 

“You know I’m with you, right? I don’t care about anyone else.” 

Mickey glances down, playing with his Ruger. 

“Mickey.”

His nose twitches and he checks on Aileen, who’s still content with chewing her teether, then turns his focus to Ian. “Yeah, I know,” he says. _Shot_. 

***

Kev and Lip take the ancient ice cream truck over to Indiana to load up on fireworks for Fourth of July. After dropping the fireworks off at their houses and bringing in weed and smokes, they park it next to the basketball courts a 5 minute walk from the Gallagher house, and it doesn’t take long for a line to form. 

“We’re outta joints,” Lip observes, checking their stash. 

“Ah, we have extra joints in the fridge, but it needs rolling,” Kev replies. He’s at the counter in the side of the truck, dealing with customers. 

Mandy pops up out of nowhere, startling Lip a little. “You guys look like you could need some help.”

He busies himself with inventory, trying not to look at her. “Uh, no we’re good, thanks,” he says at the same time Kev says, “Yeah, that’d be great!” 

Mandy’s face falls when she looks at Lip. It’s not that he hates her, he just wants to be away from her right now. Ever since they brought Molly to the Gallagher house 2 days ago, Mandy’s been all over him. He feels like he’s suffocating in her sometimes. 

“Can you roll us some spliffs?” Kev asks. 

“Sure,” Mandy says as Lip takes the carton of weed from the empty ice cream containers. “You got any papers?”

“Right there,” says Kev, pointing. 

“You guys are really killing it,” Mandy says then, obviously just trying to get Lip to talk to her. He ignores her. 

Some chick comes up to the window and orders, and Lip grabs some fireworks for her, and Mandy asks him about community service hours. 

“Why,” he asks quickly. God, can she ever just shut up?

“Molly could help.” Lip opens the freezer drawers she’s been using as a table to roll, knocking her plate of weed over in the process. “He offered.”

“No, you know what, I’m covered.” He grabs a bomb pop from the freezer, then slams it back down, whirling around to hand it to the customer. “Actually we’re good here, too, you can go home.”

“You know what, have her stick around. I gotta hit the Alibi in 10 minutes anyway,” Kev says unhelpfully. 

“I can handle it,” Lip insists. 

“I’m good to stay,” Mandy says. 

“No, please just go home, Mandy,” he snaps, turning to glare at her. The light dies from her eyes and her smile fades. “To your own fucking house, for once.”

Mandy stares at him for a while, then throws the joint she was rolling down and leaves. 

“That was harsh,” Kev says after a long moment of silence. 

Lip finds that he doesn't care. 

***

They go back home just in time for them to relax a bit before Ian has to go to ROTC. Mickey claims the bathroom, because he’s “sweaty as fuck,” so Ian watches over Aileen, who’s taking her midday nap. He stares at her, her hand curled around her stuffed bunny as she lies in her crib. She already looks so much bigger than she did a week ago. He hates to admit it, but she’s growing up. Soon she’ll be walking and talking real words and running and going off to her first day of preschool and then kindergarten and she’ll have friends and maybe she’ll be on a sport team and-

Ian’s phone buzzing in his pocket startles him out of his thoughts. 

It’s Mandy. He answers it, keeping his voice down low so he doesn't wake Aileen, and is startled to hear her crying. 

“What the fuck happened?” he asks. 

“L-Lip asked me to go home,” Mandy choked out. “I’m at my aunt’s house. He looked really p-pissed, Ian.”

He drags a few more words from Mandy before Mickey comes out of the shower, wet and pink-skinned. Ian thrusts the phone in his direction. 

“Mandy. Lip’s a dick,” he explains. “I’m gonna head out to ROTC, see you later?” 

Mickey nods, taking the phone from him to calm his sister down, and Ian leaves, going downstairs to yell at Lip. He gets the just. Lip’s being a shit boyfriend, and is treating Mandy like shit. Not that he’s surprised. He’s treated all of girlfriends like shit. Except for maybe Karen. There was a mutual treating-each-other-like-shit thing there. 

“Why are you acting like a dick to Mandy,” he demands as soon as he sees his brother. 

“I think that qualifies as none of your fucking buisness,” Lip snaps back. 

Ian tells him what Mandy said, then Lip tries to stick up for himself by explaining that Mandy is too involved, and isn’t that what happens when you get into a relationship? You kind of become one person? 

“She’s not my wife,” Lip finishes. 

“Oh, she’s a good person who does nice things for you,” Ian says.

Lip scoffs. “Oh, what are you, her fucking laywer?”

“No, I’m her best friend, alright? And you’re acting like a douchebag.” Ian gets up his face, trying to make him understand. He’s taller than Lip now. “You want out, end it. You don’t, stop treating her like garbage. But just ‘cause Karen wiped her ass with you, doesn’t give you the right to shit on Mandy.”

He glares at Lip, to make sure he gets it, then storms out. 

By the time he gets back from ROTC, it’s twilight, he’s starving, and he’s never seen Fiona this stressed out before. 

“We could go to prison, Ian, _prison_!” she hissed out, keeping quiet because of Carl and Molly right next to them. 

“Look, we’ll be fine,” he tries to reassure her, taking mashed carrots out of the fridge for Aileen and leftovers for himself. She’s covered in dirt, after a long day of trying to dig up the body of Frank’s illegally dead aunt. “Hey, where’s Jimmy?” he suddenly realizes as he brings the baby food over to Aileen, who’s being entertained by Mickey until she can be fed. 

Carl and Molly move into the living room, fighting about something, and Fiona shoves her hands in her pockets and glances down, scuffing the floor with the toe of her boot.

“Uh… I don’t know,” she says honestly. “We had a falling out, he’s probably off getting drunk somewhere.” She shrugs, shakes her head, then offers Ian and Mickey a brief smile. “Well, goodnight. See you two in the morning.”

After she makes her way upstairs, Ian turns to Mickey for an explanation. 

“Apparently Jimmy is still fucked over about his dad being a fag,” Mickey says, opening the baby food jar and scooping some out with a baby spoon. He holds it up to Aileen’s face, and she hesitates before she opens her mouth and eats the orange mush, banging her palms against the tray of the high chair as she does. 

Ian takes a bite of the cold, leftover pizza. “She’s getting better at that.”

Mickey hums and feeds her another spoonful. Some escapes her mouth and hangs onto her bottom lip, making it look like she’s wearing orange lip gloss. She blinks up at Ian with her big, blue eyes, and Ian can’t help but smile. 

“How was ROTC?” 

He shrugs and takes another bite of his pizza. “It was fine. More field work. Sam Wong looked scared of me when Captain Marsh put us next to each other.”

“Fucking good,” Mickey replies, feeding Aileen another bite and catching some carrot that dribbles out with the spoon. “This totally beats nursing, man.”

Ian chuckles. Mickey had never been a huge fan of nursing, but had always put up with it for Aileen’s sake. That didn’t stop him from bitching about it to Ian every second he could get, though. 

“So I was thinking, we should probably hit Ned’s house early tomorrow. Like 8 or 9?”

“Jesus Christ, that’s really fucking early,” Mickey replies. 

“Well, Ned said she wakes up at noon, so we gotta do it before then, and we have no idea how long it’s going to take.”

Mickey waves him off. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll wake up at the crack of dawn to help you raid your sugar daddy’s ex-wife’s house.”

***

Okay, maybe that was a dumb idea. 

Mickey has never been awake this early. It’s 6 a.m., and the sun is barely up itself, weak light pouring in through the gaps in their curtains. Mickey groans and rolls over, burying his face into Ian’s neck as their alarm blares. 

“Remind me again why we’re doing this,” he manages to croak out. 

“Money,” Ian replies. 

They move around the room soundlessly, trying not to wake Aileen, getting ready while

still half asleep. They eat breakfast, then Aileen wakes up around 6:45, so Ian changes her diaper and they put her in the bassinet in the kitchen with a pacifier. 

Debbie had promised to take care of her while they were busy, but that doesn't stop Mickey from making sure their daughter is perfectly fine before he and Ian head out to the Milkovich house. 

He hates leaving her. When he’s not there, absolutely anything could happen to her- she gets taken by a child abductor, the house burns down, she falls over, or gets into something she shouldn’t. And he knows that Debbie is more than capable, but he’ll never stop worrying. 

Ian can sense it, as he wraps an arm around Mickey’s shoulders and pulls him in close. 

“She’ll be fine,” he reassures him.

“Aren’t you worried?” Mickey snaps at him. How can Ian be so chill about this?

“Not really worried. I’ll miss her, though,” Ian replies. “I always do.”

Mickey does, too. 

Iggy and Uncle Ronnie are at the Milkovich house when Ian and Mickey show up. Mandy’s not there- she had texted Mickey last night to tell him that she’s still at their aunt’s house, but that Lip had came and apologized, and they had made up. Good. That means that Mickey won’t have to break Lip’s fucking kneecaps. 

They explain their situation to Mickey’s brother and not-really uncle, who both agreed to go along with them. Uncle Ronnie lets them use his van, which is parked right outside the Milkovich house. 

Iggy passes out smokes, then loads his gun bag into the van, winking at Mickey as he does. 

It takes them nearly 40 minutes to get over to Ned’s house, and Ian drives, as he’s the only one who technically has a license. The house is huge and brick and pointy, and if it were black, would look like something out of a horror movie. 

Ian backs the van up the driveway, and Mickey, Uncle Ronnie, and Iggy jump out. Mickey slides the side door open. They’ve cleared out the back of the van, and it seems huge now, waiting to be filled with rich people shit. 

He grabs the gun bag Iggy bought, unzips it, and is handing an SMG to Iggy when Ian leans over and hisses out, “Woah, hey, guys, guys! No fucking guns, alright? It’s just a drunk old lady in there.” 

Mickey turns towards the house, playing with his bottom lip. He wants to be extra sure that they won’t get into any trouble, but he supposes guns _are_ a little excessive. He takes the gun back from Iggy, who signs, disappointed, and throws it back in the bag. 

Ian stays in the car, acting as their spotter and getaway driver if anything goes bad. Mickey, Iggy, and Ronnie start walking towards the house, when Mickey sort of feels bad for Ian, just sitting there, while he and his crazy relatives go off and have fun. 

So he turns around, runs back into the car, takes the cigarette from Ian’s mouth, and places a wet kiss on his lips.

He ducks back out, running back towards the house, and throws a middle finger at Ian over his shoulder, who’s watching him with a smirk on his face. 

Uncle Ronnie picks the locks, and the house is like a fucking museum inside- filled with rich shit that Mickey has never even imagined before. They start with the paintings, taking huge drawings that are bigger than them out to the car, which Ian stacks dutifully, then random ass trinkets they find that they can pawn. Mickey and Ronnie carry a huge, wooden table out together, and Iggy works on rolling up the hundreds of rugs. 

In the basement, Mickey finds old wine bottles, and takes a few, making sure that one of them is the bottle Ned specifically requested. 

It takes them nearly an hour to sweep through the whole ground floors of the house, taking whatever extra shit they want. Mickey doesn’t want to risk going upstairs, in case they wake the wife, so he decides that the grandpa will just have to deal with losing his Armani suit. 

They’re about to leave, when Mickey spies a grandfather clock in the foyer. Iggy’s still in the house, so he gets his brother’s attention and gestures to it. Iggy puts down the rug he was carrying, and they grab the clock together, but it turns out to be heavier than either of them expected, and Iggy’s legs start to buckle. 

“Fuck, c’mon,” Mickey groans out in annoyance as his brother goes down, the clock pressing his shoulder into the floor. 

The weights and the pendulum bang against each other, and Mickey’s sure the sound can be heard a hundred miles away. 

“Jesus Christ,” he draws out at Iggy, trying to move the clock off of him. 

“Hey!” 

Mickey jerks his head around to see an old lady standing at the top of the stairs with a fucking rifle. He doesn’t think his heart’s ever beaten that fast. 

“Go, fuck!” he tells Iggy, dropping the grandfather clock on the ground, not even caring about it anymore. Iggy rolls onto his feet, and Mickey shoves him out the door, turning around to see Ned’s ex-wife stomping down the stairs and lowering her gun. 

They clamber out the door just as she shoots, making the walls rattle as the shell lodges itself in her paneling. Mickey jumps down the stairs and he can see Ian’s terrified face in the van, then he hears her shoot again, and a second later, a hot pain erupts in his ass. 

“No fucking way!” he shouts, hopping on one foot and grabbing at his ass cheek. There’s no way that old bitch shot him- especially in the ass. The pain is worse than labor, he thinks- bright and burning, as he scrambles into the van and drapes himself over the passenger seat and cries out in pain. 

“Fucking drive! Drive, drive, drive!” he shouts to Ian, who’s just staring at him in shock. 

“You got shot, Mickey!” Ian observes. 

“Yes, I fucking know I got shot!” 

Ian’s brain finally starts working and he throws the van into drive, bumping onto the street. Mickey howls at the pain of being tossed around. 

“Jesus!” Ronnie whistles behind him.

Ian takes a hard left, and Mickey is thrown against the driver’s seat, and lets out another moan of pain. 

“What’re we gonna do?” Iggy asks from the back. 

“Uh… we’ll go back to my house,” Ian says, driving well over the speed limit. “Fuck, I should call Ned. He left me his number.”

“What the fuck for?” Mickey bites out. The pain, fuck. “So he can shoot me too?”

“He’s a doctor, Mick,” Ian snaps, fumbling with his phone. “Not like we can pay to go to a hospital.”

Mickey focuses on gripping onto the arm rests in the front with one hand and pressing into the bullet wound in his ass with the other. A new throbbing feeling has appeared, and he’s about to rip his own ass off. 

Too many things have happened to his ass. First he pushes a baby out, now he gets shot. Jesus, his ass can’t catch a break, can it?

“He’ll be there, straight from work,” Ian says after he hangs up with the viagroid, throwing his phone into the passenger seat. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel as he pulls onto a main road, revving the engine. 

“At least we got all this sweet stuff,” Iggy drawls from the back. “This’ll give us like, $4,000, maybe more, if we can add in the fact you got shot.”

Mickey’s too in pain to reply. 

It takes them nearly half an hour to reach the Gallagher house, Ian skidding to a stop diagonally in the road. Uncle Ronnie helps Mickey flip over and holds him just above the floor as Ian scrambles out of the driver’s seat, and the two of them carry Mickey to the house, Ian kicking open the fence gate and stomping up the stairs. Mickey can vaguely hear the sounds of the van driving off behind them, more focused on the pain erupting from his ass. 

It feels like a thousand red-hot ants are crawling over his ass now. He can feel the bullet in the meat of his ass, but he can also feel smaller pellets lodged in there, and feels nauseous when he imagines what his ass must look like as Ian and Ronnie carry him through Debbie’s day care. 

“Are you kidding me?” Mickey snaps when they dump him on the ground in the kitchen. He twists around to stare at his own ass, and finds his jeans and one of his favorite tank tops splattered with blood. 

“Stay there,” Ian orders, grabbing a towel and shoving at his shoulder to bend him over the counter. Mickey lets him, groaning. 

“Just one fucking old lady, huh?” he snaps at his boyfriend. Ian presses the towel into his wound, and he flinches hard. “Ow! Ow.”

“Well, if it isn’t the toughest bad-ass fag beater this side of the Chicago River,” Ned says, wiping his hands dry and leaning over Mickey. He guessed he let himself in while Mickey was being distracted.

It’s Ned’s fault he’s in this situation anyway, so Mickey shoots him the middle finger. “Fuck. Off.”

Ronnie and Ian position him while Ned gets his tools set up, with Mickey’s front half on the counter and his legs hanging off the side. Ian grabs a beer from the fridge, then tugs his jeans and boxers down, and upends the bottle. 

“Fucking hell, Gallagher!” Mickey shouts as his skin starts to sting from where the alcohol hits raw flesh. 

“This is gonna hurt,” Ned warns, standing in between Mickey’s legs. 

“It’s already fucking hurting!” Mickey snaps back at him. Ned grabs his forceps and bends over his ass. 

“There’s 5 different wounds, but only two of them are really bad,” he says, then places his forceps on Mickey’s ass and digs out one pellet, dropping it onto a paper towel nearby. That wasn’t so bad, Mickey thinks, but the piece was tiny and the sting from the alcohol is still present. 

Without a warning, Ned gets to work on a large pellet, digging his forceps into Mickey’s skin. And holy fuck, does _that_ hurt. The burning pain comes back tenfold, and Mickey lets out a loud groan not unlike the ones he made during labor. Ned _twists,_ and digs the pellet out, dropping it down next to the first one. It’s much bigger. 

He picks out a third pellet, smaller than the one he just removed, but larger than the first, as Ian leans over his ass with a table lamp as a light source. Then Ned goes in for the actual bullet. 

Mickey groans as he finds purchase with his forceps around the bullet, then screams when Ned pulls it out. 

Jesus, fuck. 

Mickey would be content to die right then and there and not have to go through pain like that ever, ever again. It’s like he’s actively getting burned- like someone is pointing a blowtorch straight at his ass. God, he doesn’t even want to know what his ass looks like right now. It probably looks like he got attacked by a lion. He bets he’s never going to have sex again. God, what a fucking loss. 

“We’re almost done, Mickey,” Ian says, then Ned slaps his ass, hard, causing the remaining pellet to shift and more pain and he groans again. 

The last pellet is the biggest one, smaller to only the real bullet, and he screams when Ned removes that one, too. Then Ned grabs some gauze and starts dabbing at the broken skin, and shit, that hurts, too. 

Then the door to the backyard slams. 

“Ian, what the fuck?!” Fiona shouts. Mickey doesn’t even look at her, he’s too busy staring at the counter in front of him and not succumbing to blackness like he wants to right now. 

“I can explain this,” Ian replies hurriedly. 

“Who the hell are you?” Fiona demands then, gesturing to the living room, and Mickey turns his head, his vision going spotty, but he can still see enough to spy a stranger in their living room, some Asian bitch with glasses and a pantsuit. Mickey did not hear or see her come in. 

“I’m Britney Sturgis, from Child Protective Services,” she states, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. 

“She just walked in,” Carl says, spreading his hands helplessly. 

Just when Mickey thinks that’s enough action for the day, the backdoor opens again, and Debbie bounces in, literally, jumping up and down and grabbing onto Fiona’s arm, wearing a bathing suit and soaking wet. 

“Yes!” she squeals, ignoring Mickey literally having a whole fucking ass surgery in the kitchen, and bounds into the living room. “Oh my god! I totally almost drowned a slut! She was kicking and scratching, but I held my breath and hung on until she passed out! Oh my god. Guess what, you do not F with Debbie Gallagher!” She laughs like a fucking maniac. “Don’t F with me.”

“Debs,” Fiona says, and Debbie glances around, at the screaming toddlers, and the pantsuit lady, and Mickey spread-eagling on their kitchen counter, and sobers up. 

They’re fucked.

Ned stitches up Mickey, which is a whole nother level of pain itself, while the DFS lady takes names and birthdates. Ian helps Mickey get his pants back up by the time she makes it to the kitchen. 

“Do you live here?” she asks, pointing her pen at Mickey. 

“Uh, no,” he lies easily. “Just a friend.” He decides it’s not worth it to get into all the technical shit. Legally, he’s in his Aunt Rhodna’s custody, after the next time Terry got arrested after his mom’s death, as is Mandy, and yes, he does live in the Gallagher house, but a case could be made against that, as well. And as he does turn 18 in a month, so does it even really matter?

Pantsuit turns to Ian, who rattles off his full name and birthdate, then turns to Ned, who claims he doesn't live there, either. 

She gets Fiona’s name, and identifies her as the most responsible adult in the room. 

“Who are all those children?” she asks, guestering behind her to the living room. 

“We run a daycare,” Fiona says hurriedly. “They’re the kids from our neighbors.”

“All of them?”

“Yes,” Ian speaks up, and it’s almost like he read Mickey’s mind. If Pantsuit finds out that Aileen, who’s somewhere in the throng of kids in the living room right now, belongs to Ian and Mickey, she could easily take her away as well, as they’re both minors. It’d be best for her to believe that Mickey has nothing to do with the Gallaghers whatsoever and that Aileen is just some random neighborhood baby whose overworked mom pays Debbie far too little to look after her. 

“Well,” the DFS lady says after a while. “I think I’m going to come back tomorrow to take you all into some very lovely foster homes. I don’t think we need to do a house check.”

Ian helps Mickey onto his feet, gritting with pain. Ned presses some extra gauze into his hand and whispers instructions to him to take pain pills and keep the area clean, then slips out the back. Mickey catches Uncle Ronnie’s gaze, who jerks his head towards the door Ned just disappeared through, and Mickey nods back. 

Ronnie slips an arm under Mickey’s armpits, taking him from Ian. Ian wets his lips nervously and grabs Mickey’s hand before he’s pulled away, giving it a squeeze. Fiona starts having a very tense conversation with Pantsuit, and Mickey limps to the back door. He and Ronnie struggle a bit to open it, and before they leave, Mickey risks one last glance at Ian who’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking back at him. 

Mickey didn’t even get to see Aileen, and then the door is slammed shut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had the best New Year's, and look for the next chapter on Friday.  
> As always, comments and kudos are my crack!


	6. Cascading Failures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He climbs into his bed, tucking the sheets around his armpits and cradling her on top of the blankets, tucking her head underneath his chin.   
> “I wish Papa were here, too,” he whispers to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's 3x666. But just stick with me.

Britney Sturgis comes back early the next morning to take the Gallaghers away to foster care. Ian thanks whatever god is out there that Mickey had left before then and Sturgis hadn't cared to check the house and had ended up leaving shortly after Mickey. They planned on him and Aileen laying low at the Milkovich house with Iggy for a while. If the DFS knows that Aileen is Ian’s daughter, they could take her too. Furthermore, Iggy and Ronnie had cleaned the house of anything Aileen-related- her crib, bassinet, high chair, diapers, toys, etc, in case someone came to check out the house. 

Ian’s not really worried about going to a foster home- he’s been to a few before, and they’re not so bad. The only thing he cares about is not seeing Mickey or Aileen. The foster homes he’s been to before have had strict rules about not going out after dark, and the parents have even sometimes installed security cameras pointing at the door. Ian can only hope that this foster will be much more lenient. 

Sturgis loads them all into a van, and the day is unfairly warm and sunny. Jimmy pulls up by the curb, and Ian suddenly realizes that he hadn’t been in the house last night, after his and Fiona’s falling out. 

“Whoa, whoa, what’s going on?” 

“Department of Family Services is taking us away,” Debbie says, holding Liam on her hip. 

“Wait, what? Can they do that?”

Fiona strokes Debbie’s hair. “Won’t last Debs, I promise. What was it last time, a week?”

“And 9 days.”

“Yeah, 20 bucks says we’re back in 5,” Lip says as the younger kids climb into the van. 

Ian doesn’t want to go- he doesn’t want to leave Aileen, ever. He knows that he’ll probably be able to see her during the day, but he still doesn’t like the thought of being separated from her for one second.

Lip shoves him in the back when he hesitates as Fiona talks to the DFS woman. Debbie’s staring at Fiona, her body still completely turned towards the house, worrying her lip. As soon as Sturgis gets in the car, the driver takes off, and Ian glances behind him at Fiona and Jimmy one last time. 

They’re driving through the city when Sturgis turns around in the front seat. 

“You guys okay?” she asks, and Ian guesses she must be new at this. Most social workers don’t even look at the kids. 

“Oh, yeah,” Lip responds. “Ain’t our first time at the rodeo. ‘Cause Liam’s still cute and little, he’ll go to some loving home with people who really wanted a family, but waited too long their egg bags rotted, so they can’t have one of their own.”

“And Debbie and Carl will be placed together because-” Ian throws in, then points to Debbie. 

“-Because the state likes always tries to keep siblings together,” Debbie finishes, reciting what Fiona had always told her. 

“And Lip and I can handle whatever foster nutjobs we end up with,” he continues. 

“Remember that last guy with the- was it the fucking bathroom people?” Lip asks, and Ian chuckles. 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Well, this time’s gonna be a little different,” Sturgis says. “I’ve placed Liam and Carl together, but Debbie unfortunately has to be placed separately.”

“All by myself?” Debbie asks. Ian can hear the fear in her voice. She glances back at Lip, who rests a hand on her head. 

“And Phillip and Ian, you’re too old to be placed, so you’re going to a group home.”

Any hope Ian has drops out of his stomach. A fucking group home? They’re a million times worse than any foster care home, with overworked government employees and kids whose parents are locked up for life. 

The van pulls up to Lip and Ian’s place first, and when Sturgis rolls open the door, Ian leans over to see the home a little bit better. 

It’s the farthest thing from a home- an ugly tan box with tiny windows and a sign on the side that reads _Gunderson House._

“It really puts the home in group home,” Ian deadpans. 

Lip and Ian grab the money in their pockets and hide it- Lip in his boxers, Ian in his sock. Lip gets out of the van, rubbing Debbie’s head. 

“It’s only gonna be a couple of days, okay?” he says to the younger kids. “Every Gallagher can handle that, right?”

“I’ll take care of Liam,” Carl says. 

“Yes, you will,” Lip says firmly. Then he steps up and hugs Debbie, because she looks like she’s about to cry. Ian kisses Carl on his forehead, then Liam, then hugs Debbie hard, trying to let her know that they’ll be fine. 

“See you soon, alright?” he says, rubbing her back as she clings to him. He swings his backpack over his shoulder and steps out of the van and up to the group home. 

A very official-looking man is standing on the steps with Sturgis, his legs spread in a don’t-fuck-with-me stance. 

“Good day, gentlemen,” he says. “My name is DiAndre, and this is Gunderson House. A level 14 boys’ group home, housing underage DnDs in the Chicago system.”

“Is that Dungeons and Dragons, or...?” Lip asks, texting on his phone. 

DiAndre snatches his phone from his hands. “Delinquents and deviants,” he snaps. “Follow me.” He marches through the door, and Lip and Ian glance at each other before following. 

DiAndre leads them up run-down stairs, explaining the way the home works. Ian kind of understands it. 

“So, it’s like prison.”

“That’s up to you,” DiAndre replies, leading them into a large room packed with bunk beds. “You’ll be given an opportunity to earn back your money and your cell phone privileges.” He taps a box in front of him, clearly wanting their belongings to go there, and Ian’s heart sinks. He had been counting on calling up Mickey that day, seeing how Aileen is doing. 

“Gee, thanks,” Lip snarks. 

DiAndre leans in close to him. “You will do well to shut your mouth and keep your eyes wide open in here,” he warns. 

Lip clears his throat and digs his wallet out of his back pocket, throwing it on the desk in front of them, and Ian does the same with his phone. Fuck this place. All the guys around them are eyeing them like they’re fresh meat to eat. Ian wouldn’t be surprised if one of them meant it literally. 

They find an open bunk bed in the middle of the room, and Lip claims top bunk while Ian collapses on the bottom. Lip makes himself at home almost immediately, stripping off his top shirt in the heat. 

“You’ve been in a group home before. Is it always like this?” Ian asks, leaning back on scratchy sheets. 

“No, the last place I was in was an actual home. This is more like a fucking labor camp.” All of a sudden, he jumps down from the top bunk. “Yo, gimme your cash.”

“What?”

“Gimme your cash. Now, c’mon.” Lip clearly sees trouble, as he’s wiping at his nose and staring around them. Ian digs the $30 he hid in his socks out and hands it to his brother. Sure enough, two guys walk over, looking like they’ve been here a while. 

“Yo, Salvatore, check it out. It’s that chick from the movie Brave,” one of them says, and Ian glares at him. 

“He your boyfriend?” the other one asks, getting up in Lip’s face. He has sweat dampening the neckline of his shirt. 

“Nah, brother,” Lip says. “I’m Lip, this is Ian. Uh, we don’t want any trouble.” He takes some of their money, and holds it out to the guys. “Alright? We’re just passing through.”

“Long as you show respect, you gonna be fine,” the first one says, and Jesus, this is really like prison, isn’t it? The two guys glare threateningly at them before moving away. Lip sits down next to Ian. 

“You’re like a fucking cockroach,” Ian says to him. “Able to live anywhere and feed off anything.”

Lip glances at him and smirks. “I’m an aid, man,” he replies. 

***

Mickey knows it shouldn’t feel weird. Hell, this happens nearly every day, when Ian goes off to work at the Kash N’ Grab and Mickey’s left back at the house. Although, that’s with a dozen screaming toddlers and Debbie and Carl and now Molly, whereas he’s just sitting in his childhood house, alone, with Iggy off on a drug run and Aileen taking a nap. 

It’s quiet. 

He used to love the quiet, used to feel the best when he was sitting in silence in his bedroom, but now, it’s too quiet. There’s no sounds of shooting from whatever video game Carl’s playing, no laughing from Mandy and Lip, no sounds of Ian cooing at Aileen, no Debbie yelling at Jimmy, and no Fiona yelling at all of them. Now he misses the noises, he misses the action of the Gallagher house. 

He stares at Aileen, sleeping peacefully in her bassinet in the middle of the Milkovich living room, completely unaware that her father just got taken by the state and Mickey has no idea when he’ll come back. 

Okay, well, that’s a lie. Mickey knows he’s not going to stay in foster care forever. Eventually, Fiona will win the Gallagher kids back, and they’ll all be back at the house, going about their day-to-day lives as they always do. But he has no idea _how long_ that will be. It’ll either be a week or a month or 2 months. Mickey can only hope that Ian’s foster parents are nice enough to let him visit him and Aileen. 

He makes himself a sandwich, then Aileen wakes up and demands a diaper change and lunch and he throws back some Ibuprofen to help with the bullet wound in his ass. Then he finds the silence of the house to be unbearable, so he puts Aileen in her stroller and takes her to the Gallagher house, figuring that the DFS should’ve come already. 

Sure enough, the house is dead quiet when he opens the door, wheeling Aileen’s stroller in. 

“Hello,” he calls up the stairs as he takes her out, placing her on her hip. “Anyone home?”

“Mickey?” Fiona’s anxious face appears at the top of the stairs, and then she’s thundering down, throwing her arms around Mickey and encasing him in a tight bear hug. 

“Oh my god, you’re okay,” she says breathlessly. “And Aileen!” She presses a kiss on Aileen’s forehead. 

“Yeah,” Mickey says, side-eyeing her. “Have the kids been taken yet? I haven’t heard anything from Ian.”

Fiona worries her bottom lip. “Yeah, they got taken this morning, shortly after you left. Ian and Lip are in- in a fucking group home.”

Mickey raises an eyebrow. He’s never been in a group home before, but the last time he and his siblings got put in foster care, when he was 14, Iggy had told him all about the hell that was group homes. “What- you’re fucking serious?”

“Yeah.” 

“Jesus,” he sighs, adjusting Aileen on his hip and she reaches up a hand and tugs on a strand of his hair. 

“Well, I’m just glad you’re here,” Fiona says, placing her hands on her hips. “Hey, do you wanna help me clean? The DFS could be sending someone by any time to check out the home. We have to make it look the least bit safe if we’re going to get anyone back.”

“Sure, whatever. Not like I’m doing anything.”

They start in Debbie’s room. Thankfully, she doesn’t have anything dangerous, just a lot of clothes strewn everywhere and general messes. Mickey dumps random drawings into a trash bag, and Fiona cleans up broken glass she finds tucked away in a corner. The boys’ room is a mess- with Lip’s hookah pipe and Carl’s various doll experiments. She opens up Lip’s side drawer and pulls out his joints, then digs out Ian’s old porn magazines and empty beer cans from underneath Liam’s crib while Mickey clears off the general clutter on the desk. They clear out the discarded cigarette butts in Ian and Mickey’s room and a diaper that missed the trash can, and Mickey tries to take his Ben Wa beads from the bottom drawer without Fiona noticing, but she does anyway. 

“What the hell are those?” she blurts out, and Mickey holds them up for her to see. Her whole body shudders, and she shuts her eyes. “Never mind. I don’t wanna know.” 

The living room is a whole nother situation. They go up until dinner, straightening out toys and getting rid of beer cans and blunts, and by the time it falls dark, it still looks about the same. 

Fiona collapses on the couch, letting out a long-suffering sigh. 

“I think that’s it for today,” she says. “Thanks for helping, Mickey.”

“Sure,” Mickey responds, stroking Aileen’s head. She had been watching them all day, laughing when they got frustrated with the messes and babbling when she wanted attention. “I should probably get home, feed her dinner.” It’s about that time, anyway. 

“Of course,” Fiona says. “Again, thanks a lot.” Fiona smiles at him, and he can’t help but smile back. 

The walk home is even more lonely. 

Iggy’s back when he gets to the house, and they eat dinner together, Mickey feeding Aileen mashed up peas. They play with her after dinner, Iggy making her favorite bunny dancing in front of her face as she squeals and tries to grab it. 

“I think I’m her favorite uncle,” he says, puffing out his chest when she grabs onto his fingers and starts chewing on them with her new bottom teeth. 

Mickey scoffs. “Probably. Lip’s too much of an asshole, and Carl and Liam are too young.”

Aileen pulls off Iggy's fingers then, twists her head around to stare at Mickey, then frantically starts looking around the living room. Her bottom lip starts to quiver, and all of sudden, she starts bawling. 

“Woah!” Iggy says, surprised. “Maybe I’m not her favorite uncle?”

Mickey knows what she’s crying about because he wants to cry about it, too. He drags her into his lap, pressing her against his chest as she wails and _wails._

“Ian,” he says. “She misses him.” He strokes her hair, but she doesn’t stop, her fists curling up into little balls. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay. I know Papa’s gone right now, but he’ll be back real soon, okay? You’re okay.” He rubs her back, trying to sooth her down, and begins to rock gently back and forth. Eventually, her cries settle down and she starts to hiccup, and Mickey’s heart breaks in two. 

His daughter is crying because Ian isn’t there, and fuck does that make him feel terrible. 

“Shit, man,” Iggy says then, breaking into his headspace. “You’re like a fucking natural at that.”

“Yeah, well,” Mickey shrugs and turns Aileen so that she’s cradled into his arm rather than squished into his chest. She squeezes her eyes shut and turns her head, burying her face into his abdomen. “I got a lot of practice.” He stares down at his daughter some more, gently stroking her cheek with his finger. “I think we’re gonna go to bed.”

“Now? It’s only 8:30.”

“Kinda been an exhausting day,” Mickey says back, standing up. Iggy shrugs. 

“Well, g’night, man.”

Mickey says goodnight back, then retreats to the solace of his old bedroom. Aileen’s still whimpering occasionally as he changes her diaper and gets her into her sleeping outfit. He’s setting her down in her crib when she starts crying at the top of her lungs again, so Mickey quickly lifts her out. 

“Why don’t you sleep with me tonight, huh,” he says softly, placing her on his hip. She clings to his shirt, staring up at him with her blue eyes. He manages to brush his teeth, still holding her, and gets dressed for bed while she watches him from where she’s sitting up near his pillows. 

Then he climbs into his bed, tucking the sheets around his armpits and cradling her on top of the blankets, tucking her head underneath his chin. 

“I wish Papa were here, too,” he whispers to her. 

***

Ian didn’t sleep a single wink last night. At least 5 guys were snoring, and his arms felt empty, not wrapped around Mickey. Not to mention he misses Aileen. Fuck, does he miss Aileen. He still does. It’s kind of amazing how dependent he’s become on the cuddles he and Mickey give their daughter before they all settle down for the night. Snuggling with a sleepy infant is almost therapeutic, relaxing. 

So he’s dead tired, misses his family, and now has to eat the world’s most disgusting-looking breakfast. 

“What is this stuff?” he asks, repulsed, picking up a perfect circle of… ham?

“It’s pus from your mother’s monkey,” the guy across the table from him says, the same one Lip paid to keep them out of trouble. “Thought you’d like the taste of that.”

Really? Ian frowns at him. “What is your problem, dude?”

“Nick, Salvatore, find another table,” DiAndre’s booming voice says, and the two guys move away, and he takes their seats. “Proof of your employment came through, so you’re gonna work today.” DiAndre sits down and places a piece of paper in front of Ian. “I need your employer to sign this- times in and out, understand?”

Ian nods.

“You know, I’m- I’m actually pretty excited to get out there, start looking for work,” Lip says. 

“Nice try,” DiAndre replies. “You have court-mandated community service hours you owe.”

Lip crosses his arms and leans on the table. “Yeah, but only a few. Then I can get out there, start looking for work so I can become a contributing member of our great capitalist society.”

Ian stabs at his limp eggs. 

“You think you’re better than everywhere here, don’t you?” DiAndre asks, glaring at Lip, and Ian sighs. Can he not mouth off for once? If they’re going to be stuck here for a while, Ian wants to get on the good side of this guy. 

Apparently, Lip’s not a mind reader, because he says, “Oh, that’s- that’s rhetorical, right? I mean, you don’t actually want me to answer that, do you?”

DiAndre threatens Lip, then leaves, and Lip leans over to Ian. “Dude thinks he’s in an episode of _Scared Straight._ ”

Nearly an hour later, they’re heading out, Ian to work, and Lip to begrudgingly do his community service hours, when Fiona meets them just outside the home. 

“Hey!” she says, spreading her arms wide and pulling them in for a hug. “I missed you guys.” She pulls back and pats Ian on the shoulder. “How you holding up?”

“Oh, we’re fine, place is a joke,” Lip says, guestering up at the building. 

“They still serving that rotten porridge?” Frank asks. He’s leaning up against a light post next to Jimmy, who’s relaxing against his car. 

“He already on the wagon?” Lip asks Fiona. 

Frank grimaces. “Oh, why do you have to say that?”

Fiona cuts him off with a pat to their father’s arm. “As of right now!” Then she turns back to Ian and Lip. “You out on furlough?”

“No, I’ve got to work, he’s got to finish parole hours,” Ian responds. 

“You guys want a lift?” Jimmy asks, sliding his sunglasses on. 

Lip lights a cigarette. “Ah, no, we’ve got to get our bus passes signed by the driver. You find Debs and the boys?”

Fiona shakes her head. “Not yet, but I will. Do you need anything, any cash, clothes?” She starts reaching into her bag, but Lip stops her. 

“Nah, nah, don’t worry about us, we’re fine.” Ian can see the relief on his sister’s face when Lip hugs her. “Worry about him,” he says when he pulls back, nodding his head towards Frank, who throws up his hands. 

Ian pulls Fiona in for a hug. “You see Mickey yet?” he asks her in a low voice. 

“Yeah, he stopped by yesterday with Aileen,” she responds. “They’re both fine.”

“Thank Christ,” Ian breathes out, untangling their arms and stepping past her. That’s the only good news he’s heard this day. 

“Where’s my hug?” Frank asks as Lip and Ian walk away, and they both flip him the bird. 

Ian’s heart skips a beat when he pushes open the door to the Kash N’ Grab to find Mickey behind the register, Aileen’s stroller next to him. 

“God,” he says, pulling his boyfriend in for a hug. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, bitch,” Mickey responds, tucking his head into Ian’s shoulder. Ian lets himself savor the feeling of Mickey’s arms around him, of his scent, then presses a kiss to his lips. He hears a coo then, and pulls back to pay attention to Aileen. 

He lifts her out of the stroller, holding her up and kissing her nose. “Hi, sweetheart! Did you miss me?” 

She squeals and reaches out, holding the sides of his face as she stares into his eyes. 

“Fuck, yeah, she missed you. Wouldn’t stop crying last night,” Mickey says, watching them. Ian pauses and turns towards him. 

“She did?”

“Yeah. Started looking around for you, and then started bawling. She didn’t want to sleep by herself, either.”

Fuck. Ian cuddles his daughter to his chest, gently stroking her head. He hates that. If him being away from Aileen for one night would cause her to cry, then how the hell is she going to manage if he has to stay in the group home for a while. Staring at her, Ian makes up his mind right then and there. He’s not leaving her and Mickey alone another night. He’ll just have to sneak out of the group home. 

“Hey, how’s your ass?” he asks after a while. 

“Still hurts like a bitch,” Mickey replies. “We should stack the shelves.” He guesteres to a pile of boxes in the back of the store. “New shipment came in today.”

“Alright,” Ian replies. He sets Aileen on his hip because he can’t put her down now and follows Mickey over to the boxes, grabbing one full of canned foods and balancing it on his other hip. 

He takes Aileen to the soup aisle, and starts to unload the box while Mickey grabs watermelons. 

“How is the place?” Mickey asks then. 

“Fucking terrible,” Ian replies. “I mean, there’s just no privacy. If I wanna jack off, I gotta do it in the bathroom,” he jokes. 

“Can’t even begin to imagine what a pussy you’d be in juvie,” Mickey says, and Ian straightens up and stares at him, the corners of his mouth twitching up. He takes the canned corn he was just about to stack, glances down at Aileen, then chucks it at Mickey. 

Mickey catches it easily, chuckling. “Anyone offer to fuck in there yet?”

Ian grimaces and grabs another can as Mickey walks over with the corn. “God, no.”

“Wise choice on their part,” Mickey says, placing the can on the shelf and gently touching Aileen’s arm. “Even if you’re positioned, it’s probably just a set-up. Guys wanna find out if you’re gay and pound the shit out of you. And _not_ in a good way.”

“Great,” Ian says as Mickey bends down and grabs a box of lemons to place on the counter. “Hey, I was thinking, what if I sneak out tonight? Spend the night with you and Aileen?” 

He bounces her on his hip and glances down at her as she chews on a teether. 

“Sure. Maybe I’d get some sleep tonight,” Mickey replies. “Couldn’t get any shut eye with Aileen squirming all around last night.”

DiAndre takes forever to do roll call before bed. Fucking roll call, like they’re in school and not a group home. Finally, though, he leaves, and Lip jumps soundlessly down from the top bunk. Ian throws the scratchy sheet off him, already dressed, and grabs his backpack. 

The two make their way quietly to the front door, where Lip pays Salvatore to unlock the door for them. Mandy is waiting on the other side, and she slides past Ian into the group home. 

“Have fun,” he tells her, and she winks at him. 

The night is warm and breezy as he makes his way to the L, hopping aboard the train that would take him to the Milkovich house. When he gets off, he sprints the whole way there, too anxious to see Mickey and Aileen to walk. 

He doesn’t even bother to knock, as he knows the Milkoviches never lock their doors anyway, and finds Mickey and Iggy relaxing on the sofa, Mickey cradling Aileen in his arms, who’s asleep. 

Ian lets his bag drop to the floor and grins when they see him. 

“Hey, Ian,” Mickey says, nodding at him. “You made it here fast.”

“Yeah, had to fight off a dozen security guards to get here, but,” Ian replies, still grinning, and collapses next to his boyfriend. 

“Does this mean I don’t have to entertain Mickey anymore?” Iggy asks, and Mickey slaps him on the back of his head. “Cause he demanded that I watch TV with him because he was bored.” 

Ian throws an arm around Mickey, who says, “Yeah, yeah, fuck off bitch. Go fuck your girl or whatever.”

Iggy stands up, pumping his fist in the air. He pats Ian on the shoulder as he passes. “Have fun.”

The door slams shut, and they’re alone. Ian leans over and presses their lips together, his hand cupping Mickey’s cheek, and he slumps against him. They kiss until Ian runs out of air and Aileen wakes up below them, squirming and letting out soft noises.

He pulls away and glances down at her, and she reaches up for him. Ian plucks her out of Mickey’s arm and slouches down on the couch so he can rest her on his chest. She shoves a fist in her mouth and scooches up his chest until she can rest her face next to his, the fingers of her other hand playing with his nose.

He chuckles, and feels Mickey move next to him, cuddling up into his side. 

“Hey, baby girl,” Ian says softly. “I missed you so much.” He runs his fingers through her soft-as-silk baby hair. It’s starting to get a little long, and he knows they’ll have to cut it again. “God, she’s growing so fast,” he says when a loud noise comes from the TV and she twists her head around to stare at it. 

“Mmm,” Mickey agrees. “Soon she’ll be crawling everywhere, getting into shit. Then fucking walking, then talking.”

“I wonder what her first word will be.”

“Probably ‘fuck off, bitches,’” Mickey says, and Ian laughs. 

“She’s incredible.”

“She is. Can’t believe I pushed her out of my ass.”

Ian shoves at his boyfriend. “You’re never going to stop saying that, are you?”

“Worst 18 hours of my life. But she made it all worth it.” Mickey reaches out and pokes at Aileen’s curled up fist until she opens up her hand and grabs onto his finger, bringing it closer to her mouth to chew on him. “She’s like a fucking cannibal.”

“She’s teething,” Ian corrects, but can’t help but smile at them. “What’cha watching?” he asks after a while. 

“Some game show shit Iggy put on,” Mickey replies, still staring at Aileen. She’s starting to grow tired again, as Ian had woken her up, and her eyelids flutter against her cheeks as she snuggles down into his chest. It feels so fucking nice, just laying there with his boyfriend and their daughter, watching some dumbass game show, that he almost regrets having to get up and get ready for bed. 

Just like they do every night, he and Mickey take turns in the bathroom, although this time, they’re in the Milkovich house. The bathroom is much tinier than the Gallagher’s, and Ian tries to turn around at the sink to wipe his hands on the towel behind him while he’s brushing his teeth, but bumps his elbow on the mirror. 

“Your house is tiny, man,” he tells Mickey when he crawls under the covers. Aileen’s crib is at the foot of their bed, just in case she wakes up crying in the middle of the night from teething pain or because she misses them. 

“And your house is huge,” Mickey says back. Ian snaps off the light, as it’s on his side of the bed, and Mickey immediately tugs him into place, on his back so Mickey can drape himself over him. It’s incredible, that no matter how hot it is outside, Mickey will always want to snuggle up with Ian. 

Ian’s hand finds his back, gently rubbing, as Mickey lets out a sigh. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says quietly. 

Ian hums. “Me too.”

***

Mickey got a much better sleep last night than the night before. Not just because Aileen wasn’t up all night crying, but because he finds it easier to fall asleep when there’s another body in his bed, a comforting warmth against his side. 

After a breakfast of toast and coffee (because there’s nothing better in the Milkovich house), Ian turns to Iggy and asks, “Hey, do you wanna spend some time with Aileen this morning?”

Iggy gives him a weird look. “Sure. I mean, I spent time with her yesterday, today won’t be any different.”

“I know, but I meant like, by yourself.”

Mickey can see the lightbulb go off in Iggy’s head. “Oooh, gotcha. Gotcha.” He shoots Mickey finger guns. “No, I’ll look after her this morning, and you two can go and… talk. Right, Aileen?” He turns to her, and she grins around the stuffed bunny ear she has in her mouth. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mickey hisses out to Ian as Iggy turns his back on them. It’s not that he doesn't trust Iggy, he just doesn’t want Aileen to get hurt or lost. 

“It’s been too long since I fucked you,” Ian whispers back. 

“It’s been like 3 fucking days.” 

“Exactly.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. He makes sure Aileen’s all set up before she and Iggy leave, with toys in the bottom of her stroller, and baby food in case she gets hungry, and an extra change of clothes. 

“Don’t forget to keep the shade down all the time,” he tells Iggy. “It’s sunny as fuck out there.”

His brother shoves playfully at him. “Yeah, yeah, I know how babies work, Mickey. Have fun. Don’t make another kid.”

Mickey lets out a sigh, but as soon as the door closes behind Iggy and Aileen, Ian’s on him, pressing him against the wall and attacking his neck like he’s a fucking vampire. Mickey can’t help the moan that escapes his lips as he spreads his legs for Ian to get in between them, and runs his hands up and down Ian’s back. 

“The whole house to ourselves, Mick,” Ian pants out in his ear. “Where should we do it?”

They end up fucking with Mickey bent over the couch. One of Ian’s hands grips his hip as the other one presses down on his back as he pounds relentlessly into him. Mickey lets noises fall from his mouth that he wouldn’t have if they had been at the Gallaghers house, and they seem to only spur Ian on more. 

“Fuck, Mick,” he pants, his head thrown back. “Love knowing how I make you feel.”

Ian spills out into the condom, and Mickey jerks himself off until he’s coming into his hand, some of it making its way onto the couch cushions. 

Ian pulls out and peels off the condom, tying it off and throwing it carelessly on the floor. He collapses next to Mickey and pulls him down on top of him, and Mickey lets him. 

“You’re gonna have to clean the couch,” Ian says after a while.

“Fuck off,” Mickey responds. Ian’s fingertips trace up and down his back, almost tickling him. Their bodies are sticky and sweaty, but Mickey finds he doesn't mind one bit, as long as Ian keeps touching him like that. 

After a while, though, he gets on his feet and grabs a towel from the kitchen, dabbing at his cum spot on the couch. Ian’s got one arm resting on the back of the couch, his legs spread wide as he relaxes. 

When Mickey goes to throw away the towel, he makes a pit stop in his room and digs around in the bags he brought from the Gallagher house until he finds what he was looking for. 

“Alright, I gotta get to work,” Ian says when Mickey comes back out into the living room. 

“Just gimme a minute, okay?” Mickey says to him, coming into his vision and holding out his anal beads. “Wanna do the honors?”

Ian stands up and takes them from him, frowning. “What is this- rosary for giants?” He holds them up to Mickey’s neck like a necklace, and Mickey has to laugh. 

“Nah, man. They’re Ben Wa beads. You shove them up my ass and pull them out real slow.”

Ian pulls back, blinking and staring down at the beads. Mickey’s never told him about them before. He’s not sure how Ian’s going to take it. They’ve always had plain sex, and not boring, because sex with Ian could never be boring, but they’ve been trying out some new things recently. They both like dirty talk and Mickey’s been stretching, trying to get more flexible to try some new positions, but they’ve never used toys before. It’s not like they’ve ever had the time. 

“How’s that fun for me?” Ian asks.

“C’mon, man,” Mickey tries. “Just this once? If you really aren’t into it we can stop and I’ll suck you off. Just go easy on the injured cheek, alright?”

Ian sighs and shrugs. Mickey grins, knowing that Ian could never say no to him. He grabs the discarded lube from the ground and bends over the couch, slicking up his fingers and reaching back to stretch himself open again. He’s still relatively loose from their last fuck, so 2 finges go in easily. 

“How do these work?” Ian asks from behind him. 

“Start on one end, push them in,” Mickey tells him, working in a third finger and groaning at the stretch. 

“All of them?”

“Nah, not all of them. I usually do 4. I made it up to 6 once, but I had trouble shitting after, so I don’t do that a lot.”

Ian scoffs. “Gross. Thanks.”

Mickey works in his pinkie alongside his other fingers, and pants at the stretch. “Fuck,” he breathes out. “Ian, put them in me.”

He can’t see what Ian is doing behind him, but he can feel him pressing the first ball against his rim after he takes his fingers out. Mickey wills himself to relax, and the ball slips inside. He spreads his legs more and feels the toy shift inside him, and a moan escapes his lips. “Shit.”

Ian’s silent behind him, but rubs a hand on his lower back and touches the second one against his entrance. 

“You ready for the second ball?”

“Yes, fuck, hurry up,” Mickey snaps. He’s not begging, no he’s fucking not. One ball is nice, but not nearly enough to make him feel really fucking full. Ian starts pushing the ball into him, but pauses halfway, and Mickey can feel him panting. “This fun for you now?”

“Shut up,” Ian grits out, then shoves the rest of it in harshly. 

Mickey lets out a huff as the other ball suddenly slips inside of him and joins the second. “Ugh, fuck.” The second ball causes the first ball to shift forward, pressing directly against his prostate. Bolts of pleasure shoot up his spine, and he slips a hand around himself to squeeze the base of his dick to hold off his orgasm. 

“Fuck, another one, Ian,” he growls out. 

“Jesus, so needy,” Ian comments, and Mickey kicks out with his foot, trying to shove at his boyfriend, but the movement only causes the balls to shift inside of him. 

Ian presses the third one against his rim, and slips it in quickly. Mickey lets out a groan. Christ, he feels so full. He can feel the balls pressing up against his insides, and he swears he can almost hear them as his hips jerk forward, seeking out friction. 

“God,” Ian groans, rubbing his palm against the top of Mickey’s ass. “One more.”

As Ian pushes a fourth one into Mickey, he can feel himself start to sweat at the constant pleasure against his prostate. His body is hot all over and as one more ball slips inside him, he lets out a long groan. There’s much more inside him than when Ian fucks him, but he has to admit, Ian’s dick is better than plastic balls. 

Then Ian tugs on the string, teasingly, and fuck, Mickey can feel the balls against his walls, against his rim. 

“Fuck, Ian!” he cries out, arching his back and pushing his ass back to try to get Ian to do something, _anything._ He twists his hand around his dick, moaning at the friction. 

Ian breathes out a curse behind him, then tugs on the string again, pulling the last bead out. “Shit,” Ian says, and Mickey peers over his shoulder to see his boyfriend with wide eyes, staring down at his ass. 

Mickey wiggles his ass and tugs on his dick, trying to get Ian to do that again. Ian’s breath stutters as he pulls out the third ball, slower this time, and Mickey pushes back on it, and can feel the drag of the bead against his rim. 

“Fucking hell,” Ian groans when it falls out. “You said you got up to 6 once?”

Mickey huffs a laugh at that. So Ian does like them. “I should- fuck- show you sometime,” he says, his head dropping down between his arms as Ian traces his fingers up his thighs. He hooks a finger on the side of Mickey’s rim, and then he’s tugging, stretching him, and- 

“Fuck, Mick, I can see them inside you.”

The words send bolts of pleasure down Mickey’s spine and he jerks his cock again. “I’m gonna come,” he pants out. 

Quick as a flash, Ian snakes his hand around to Mickey’s front and grabs the base of his dick. “Wait until the last one’s out,” he orders.

“Fucking hurry up then, bitch,” Mickey snaps back at him, but he feels his face grow hot at Ian’s command. 

Ian pulls the second bead out, then releases his grip on Mickey’s dick and starts to stroke him as he slowly draws out the last one.

The pressure around his dick and the bead stretching his rim open and Ian groaning in his ear is too much for Mickey and he spills out into Ian’s hand with a cry, onto the freshly cleaned cushions. “Fuck, god, Ian,” he groans, and hears a clatter as Ian tosses the Ben Wa beads on the ground. 

He rolls over onto his back, ignoring the fact that he’s basically lying in his own cum, and shoves Ian off of him onto the couch, sinking onto his knees on the floor and spreading Ian’s legs. He takes his tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue around Ian’s dick while he groans and grips his hair, then goes down as far as he can before his gag reflex kicks in.

He wraps his fingers around what he can’t fit into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks and twisting his wrist, and Ian doesn't last very long. 

They collapse on the couch again after, and Ian wraps his arm around Mickey. 

“Fuck,” he groans out. “That was fucking good.”

“Uh-huh,” Mickey says back. “Knew you’d like them, kinky fucker.”

Ian shoves at his shoulder. “Hey, I’m not that kinky. You’re the one with huge ass anal beads.”

“You’re the one who held my arms above my head and said ‘don’t move, slut,’” he fires back. 

“That was one time!”

Mickey just laughs and settles back against Ian. “What time is it?”

“Almost 9:30,” Ian responds. “Iggy should be back soon. Fuck, I really gotta get to work.”

Reluctantly, they get up, and Mickey wipes off the couch again. They shower quickly together, and Mickey changes the bandages on his ass. They’re drying off in their bedroom when Mickey hears the door open and Iggy saying something to Aileen. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t take her on any drug runs,” Iggy says when Mickey plucks Aileen out of the stroller. “Did you guys have fun?”

“Yes, thanks for asking, bitch,” says Mickey, straightening out Aileen’s shirt as it got twisted when he placed her on his hip. 

“Thanks Iggy,” Ian says. “I’m gonna head out to work, then I’ll have to go back to the group home again, so I don’t know when I’ll see you next. It’s fucking expensive to pay other guys to sneak me out at night.”

Mickey’s heart sinks. It was a nice illusion, but now they have to go back to reality, where Ian’s been taken by the DFS.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later, though. Might stop by the store today.”

Ian kisses him on his cheek, then kisses Aileen, then turns to leave.

“Where’s my kiss?” Iggy asks, and Ian flips him off before shutting the door. 

Mickey sighs and turns his attention to Aileen. She might need a nap. 

“Hey, man, you left your candy string necklace out,” Iggy says, pointing down to where Ian threw his Ben Wa beads. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles to his brother. 

***

She heads over to DFS to make sure that Frank got all the paperwork in after she made a deal with him to go to parenting classes in exchange for being allowed to sleep in the house. Their social worker, Britney Sturgis, isn’t happy to see her again as she had come in the day before and convinced her to tell her where her siblings were placed. 

“Just wanted to make sure Frank showed up, and all our paperwork was good to go,” Fiona says, sitting down on the chair across from Sturgis’s desk. 

“He did,” Sturgis says, nodding. “He passed his urine test with flying colors, and yes, your paperwork is all set.” She gestures towards her monitor, and Fiona breathes a sigh of relief. It wouldn’t be wrong to say she had no faith in Frank. 

“So, now we just wait for a hearing?” she asks. 

Sturgis nods, and almost looks sorry. “You’ve done good, Fiona. You are a great sister, and those kids are lucky to have you.”

Fiona nods. Knowing they’re done here, she stands up, slinging her bag back over her shoulder. But then she pauses. There’s been something hanging over her head for the past 2 days. She turns back around. 

“How did we show up on DFS radar?” she asks. 

Sturgis freezes. “It was an anonymous phone call, actually,” she replies, pushing up her glasses. 

Fiona laughs. “Bet it was that bitch we turned away from daycare ‘cause her kid stunk.”

Sturgis turns to her computer. “Um… no.” She clicks on something. “It was a man actually.”

“A man?” Now she’s confused. “It’s never a man. Men don’t give a shit.” Who the fuck would call the DFS on them? The only men Fiona knows are close to the Gallaghers are Jimmy and Kev, and neither one of them would do it. “How is it fair that someone can make one call and completely ruin our lives, and they get to be anonymous.”

Sturgis is silent for a moment. Then, “I have to go to the restroom. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t click on this file while I’m gone.” She looks pointedly at her computer, then stands up and walks away. 

Fiona waits for a moment, looking around to make sure none of the other social workers are looking, then takes Sturgis’s seat. She moves the mouse to _Gallagher/case #15-3725G_ and clicks on it. 

“Yes, hello, I would like to report a… a negligence situation.” It’s definitely a man, speaking kind of quietly and sounding rather tense. “2-1-1-9 North Wallace. Gallagher.” 

Fiona’s stomach drops down to the floor. 

She knows that voice. 

“6 kids, living in squalor, no parental supervision,” Frank says. “When the father is there, he’s drunk. He hits them. Not...not that they don’t deserve it, they’re all criminals, delinquents, vile-” He’s cut off by the woman on the other ends asking his name, and he asks to remain anonymous.

Fiona can’t believe it- her own father called the DFS on her. 

He’s the reason her kids have been taken away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um…. I don't really have experience with writing smut, so sorry if that was kinda awkward. Also, I have no idea what "pus from your mother's monkey" means. I mean, I assume it's a gay joke, but idk exactly what it means.  
> Who's excited for 11x04? I know I can't wait to see camo Gallavich. Next chapter should be up by Tuesday!


	7. A Long Way From Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey’s there too, with Aileen in the stroller by his side, and Fiona thinks that if anyone told her a year ago Mickey Milkovich would have been with her family, dealing with their fraud shit, she would never have believed them.   
> But she guesses a lot can happen in a year, like Mickey Milkovich getting knocked up by her little brother, them raising a baby together, and now the DFS threatening to take her siblings away if Frank doesn’t change his way, which he most definitely won’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't going to have a lot of Aileen in it, it's mainly about Fiona and her struggle with getting the kids back from DFS. There's some fluffy parts, but it's mainly a filler chapter.

“I want the kids!” 

Keeping up with a busy lawyer is easier said than done. 

“Do you parents know?” Sean O’Dell asks as Fiona and Jimmy struggle to keep up with him and he plows up the stairs. 

“Not yet,” Fiona admits. 

“They’ll relinquish their rights?” 

“My dad’s made a career of refusing responsibility.”

4 days after realizing Frank called the DFS on her, and 1 before their hearing, Fiona’s made up her mind. Frank isn’t a suitable parent. She needs the legal rights to her siblings if they’re ever going to have a good life _now._

“Mom’s MIA,” Jimmy throws in helpfully. 

“What are my chances?” Fiona asks the lawyer. 

“Cases I take are all about whether the kid’s going to live in Aspen or Monico,” he responds. 

“You know, my brother said you’d help,” Jimmy points out. 

“I told Chip I could get 5 minutes.”

“Please, Mr. O’Dell,” Fiona tries, following him around an inside balcony. 

“You can’t afford me,” he sighs. 

“You do pro bono,” Jimmy says.

“As little as possible,” O’Dell replies, making his way towards an elevator. The door opens, and he gets in it, but Fiona holds the door, trying to get in one last word. 

“My brother and sister are in foster homes and my father is the reason why. I need custody _now_ so I can get them home, and you’re not going anywhere until you tell me how to do it.”

O’Dell sighs. “You know, the firm makes me do one pro bono case a year… And I guess this won’t be as bad as representing those scary motherfuckers at the Inderson’s Project.”

Fiona can’t help but smile. That’s a yes! “What do I have to do?”

“Get your parents to terminate their rights, prove you can provide a stable environment, get W2s to show you have a full-time job,” O’Dell lists off. “You got a place for the kids to live?”

No. But she nods anyway. 

“Kay,” the lawyer says, then glances at her hand, still on the elevator door. “Get your arm out of the door so I can go bill somebody.”

Fiona shakes herself and takes a step back. “Thanks.” She smiles at him, then the door slides shut. 

***

It’s been 2 days. 

2 days since Ian’s wrapped an arm around his waist in bed, 2 days since Ian’s buried his face in the back of his neck, 2 days since they’ve fallen asleep together. 

Mickey’s going kind of insane. 

He still sees Ian during the day time, as he joins him at his shift at the Kash N’ Grab, but then Ian has to retreat to the group home and spend the nights there, as he and Lip don’t have enough money to pay someone to continually sneak Ian out. 

He never realized before how much he needs Ian to fall asleep. It’s stupid, he thinks, but then at the same time, he doesn’t think it’s really that stupid. He’s been sleeping with Aileen in his bed, because she needs it too, and he knows it’s setting up for a bad habit, but is her sleeping in the same bed as him for a few nights better than her screaming her lungs out because Ian’s not there?

Mickey thinks so, anyway. 

On the fourth day, Ian gets his cell phone rights (Lip doesn’t) and texts him early in the morning to meet him and Lip at the Gallagher house. Mickey heads over there immediately. 

Ian doesn’t hesitate to pull him in for a kiss, even though this asshole of a brother is standing right there. 

“Jesus, that’s too cute for my eyes,” Lip says. “What, are you going to be pooping rainbows next?”

Mickey glares at him as Ian takes Aileen from the stroller, bouncing her above his head. 

“I can still fuck you up if I want to,” he snaps at Lip. 

While Lip and Ian devour any snacks they find in the kitchen, because apparently the group home food is diarrhea, Carl calls the home phone and explains in a panicked voice that he absolutely hates it at his foster house, take him back _now._

“Whoa, hey,” Lip says, a pop tart in one hand. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re gay!” says Carl, announcing it to the whole kitchen. Lip had put him on speaker phone. Ian scoffs at Carl’s words. “They make me wash my hands after I use the toilet and go to church and go to bed at 8. I hate it here.”

“Look, we’ll bring you some stuff, okay? But, uh, you can’t leave until the DFS says so. So just stay put, alright?” 

“Poor kid, got put with fags,” Mickey says after Lip hangs up. He glances over at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’ll go find some stuff for Carl,” Ian pipes up then, handing Aileen off to Mickey. Mickey grabs her by her armpits and places her on his lap, wrapping one arm around her tummy to secure her to his chest. 

Lip leans up against the counter on his elbows, and Mickey can feel his eyes boring into him. He hates Lip. The guy thinks he knows everything. Fuck him, he doesn't know shit. 

Wordlessly, Lip turns and disappears upstairs after Ian. 

Mickey huffs out a sigh and glances down at Aileen. “Your uncle Lip is a huge pain in the ass, did you know that?”

She burbles and tips her head back, trying to see his face. At that moment, the front door bangs open and Fiona whirls in like a tornado, Jimmy behind her.

She says some shit about a will and the house and a W2, whatever the fuck that is, then makes her way into the kitchen with the family laptop just as Lip comes back down the stairs. 

“Hey!” she says to Lip, then turns and repeats it to Mickey. 

“Thought I heard the door,” Lip replies, taking a seat next to Mickey. 

“They let you out of the group home?”

“Uh, yeah, they cut us loose from dawn ‘till dusk.”

“I found ‘em,” Ian calls, making his way into the kitchen with a plastic box full of Carl’s throwing stars. “I’m going to visit Carl and Liam. He asked for M80s, Nintendo DS, and-” he holds one up- “Ninja throwing stars.”

“Could use your help,” Fiona says, sounding exasperated. She reaches up and plucks something out of the dropped ceiling overhead. It’s one of Carl’s throwing stars. “I’m getting custody.” She hands it to Ian, and he takes it, staring at her. 

“Of us?”

Fiona nods and shrugs. “It’s the only way to bring everyone home and keep it that way.” She grabs the laptop and clomps up the stairs. Mickey and Ian exchange a glance. 

Hey, that’s good, right? No more Frank. 

***

They make their way to the Alibi, and Ian and Lip disappear in the back to find Kev’s employment paperwork. Fiona needs a W2 to say she’s working, which she doesn’t have, because she quit her job at the grocery store because of the pervert boss that would make his workers blow him for benefits. 

But they figure if they just scan Kev’s W2, but put Fiona’s name on it, they won’t know the difference. Kev’s fine with it (mainly because he doesn't know what a W2 is), so Fiona’s fine with it. 

Mickey’s there too, with Aileen in the stroller by his side, and Fiona thinks that if anyone told her a year ago Mickey Milkovich would have been with her family, dealing with their fraud shit, she would never have believed them. 

But she guesses a lot can happen in a year, like Mickey Milkovich getting knocked up by her little brother, them raising a baby together, and now the DFS threatening to take her siblings away if Frank doesn’t change his way, which he most definitely won’t.

Which is why it’s fallen on her to get custody of her siblings. It’s not like it’s the first thing she’ll do for them, anyway. 

Now that they’ve got the W2 squared away, all she needs Lip, Ian, and Mickey to do is to notarize Aunt Ginger’s fake will that she whipped up in 10 minutes. She needs the house, and a will by none other than the person who owns the house with Fiona’s name as the recipient is the way to go. 

But then Lip says they can’t turn in a will without a death certificate, and they need a body too, to prove she’s dead. 

“Where the fuck are you gonna get a dead body?” Mickey asks. 

The answer is Veronica. 

“Hey, need a favor.” Fiona finds her walking home from Savers.

“Uh-oh, that’s how I started the talk with my mom. I hope you’re not asking me to mount your man.”

What? Fiona shakes herself. She doesn’t want to know. “Those geriatrics at the nursing home drop like flies, right?”

“Thought it would be wham-bam-thank-you-Mom, but Kev’s sperm were as gun-shy as he was. Bought an ovulation calendar. I have to track her damn cycle.”

“You’re going again?” V and Kev are so desperate for a kid, they’ve gone to V’s mom for help. 

“What choice do I have?” V says. “At least this way, I’ll know when she’s fertile. I don’t want Kevin fucking my mom anymore than he has to.”

Fiona sighs. “So, you must lose a couple of those seniors at the home a week, right?”

“More when Bernice is working. That negligent bitch is like the Grim fucking Reaper. Why?”

Fiona slows to a stop, and V stops with her. “I need a body.” V laughs. “To get the kids back.”

“A real live body?” V asks. 

Fiona grimaces. “Not live.” She knows V’s going to cave for her, so she steps forward and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks. Knew I could count on you!” 

Fiona searches all over their neighborhood, but can’t find Frank. She eventually gives up and makes it back to the house as the sun’s going down, to find Jimmy working on the locks in the back door. When she spills her troubles to him, he tells her that Frank’s upstairs. 

“You let him in?” Fiona demands. 

“Oh, he was already raiding the fridge when I got here,” Jimmy counters. 

Fiona sighs. She finds Frank in the upstairs hallway, digging around the linen closet. 

“Have you seen my suit?” he asks. 

“I’m gonna take the kids off your hands. All you gotta do is sign a form.”

He ignores her. “I can’t find _anything_ in this goddamn house.” He gives up and shuts the door to the closet, making his way into the boys’ bedroom. Fiona follows him. 

“Did you hear me?” she presses. “I want the kids.”

“If you want kids so bad, toss your birth control pills.” He opens the door to Lip and Carl’s closet and starts digging around. 

“I want you to give up your parental rights.” He doesn’t respond. “I’m serious! Look. I already got Monica to sign.” She flips open the folder and shows him. She forged her mom’s signature, but whatever. 

“You’d have to find her first,” Frank laughs, pushing his hair away from his face, but then he sees the papers and his smile drops. “Where is she,” he demands. 

“Not telling you. You gonna sign the form!” Frank denies loudly and moves into the hallway. “She did.”

“She would never do that.”

“I gotta witness. It’s not like you want your kids anyway,” Fiona laughs, following him down the hall and into Debbie’s room. 

“They’re my kids!” he protests. 

“You’re the one who called DFS on them to have them taken away!” she bursts out. Frank laughs it off, denies it, and this is exactly why the kids need to be taken away from Frank. He’s so drunk all the time, he doesn’t even remember calling child protective services on his own children. 

Frank finds his suit in Debbie’s closet, and Fiona yells at him some more as he meanders down the hall, throwing out a final, “You’re not taking my kids!” before making his way downstairs. Jimmy passes him on the stairs, with her phone, saying that V called about a dead body. 

Fiona nods and takes it from Jimmy. “Hey, V,” she says as she answers, plastering on a fake smile like she’s good at. 

***

Ian’s done a lot of questionable things during his time on earth. Sneaking into his freshman math teacher’s room after dark to get answers to the next test in order to get a blowjob from Roger Spikey. Pretending to have a seizure so Lip can steal a six pack of beer from a convenience store. Agreeing to go on a date with a man old enough to be his grandfather. But getting a dead body from a morgue to claim it’s their great-aunt Ginger to cash her will and get a house seems like the weirdest shit he’s ever done. 

Some guy at the morgue that Veronica knows ushers them into the cooler room. 

“We just booked a first-class ticket to eternal damnation,” V says as the guy, Randy, rolls out a body bag on a tray. 

“Out of rigor mortis, starting to decompose, and lucky for you, set to be cremated,” he recites. 

“Well, won’t her family ask questions?” Jimmy asks from where he’s standing next to Lip. 

“Got a Jane Doe in the back, never been ID'd. Best thing about ashes? They all look the same.”

Fiona nods. “What do you want for her?”

“Could use a pick-me-up. Night shift’s killing me,” he replies, shaking his head. 

“What’s your poison?” Lip asks as Jimmy’s phone bleeps. 

“I’m not picky.”

“Hmm, can you guys handle it from here?” Jimmy says, starting to move towards the door. “Mom. She got a little ambitious on the liquor. I’ll meet you back at the house.” Then he’s gone. Ian’s noticed he’s been doing that a lot. 

“You’ll wanna work fast,” Randy says. “She won’t stay cold long.” And with that, he leaves too. Jesus Christ, Ian can’t believe he’s doing this. 

Ian, Fiona, and V take her out to Jimmy’s car and shove her in the trunk while Lip gives Randy an IOU. Ian can see how tense Fiona is as she drives them home, hoping that they don’t get pulled over for whatever reason. 

Getting the dead lady up the stairs is another task. She’s heavy and cumbersome and Mickey isn’t helping, making disgusted noises from the base of the stairs where he stands with Aileen.

Finally, though, they plop her down on the floor of Fiona’s room and Ian unzips the body bag. 

Immediately, the most disgusting scent he’s ever smelled permeates the air, causing everyone in the room to gag. 

“Oh my god,” Fiona groans, her hands covering her mouth. Lip retches. 

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey hisses out. He’s put Aileen in her bassinet in the kitchen with a pacifier and has reluctantly joined them. 

They all grab bandanas, tying them around their faces. It helps only somewhat. 

“Get the legs?” Ian asks Lip. 

“Jesus, it fucking reeks!” Lip responds. 

“We need the biohazard masks they use when ebola breaks out,” V groans, tying her bandana behind her head. 

“This is the best we got,” Fiona says. “Cover your nose.”

“Lip, get her fucking legs, man!” Ian says when everyone else bends down but Lip stays standing. 

“Are we really gonna do this?” Lip says, exasperated. 

“I’m not taking any chances,” Fiona shoots back. 

Ian gags again, and Mickey grimaces as he helps V unzip the rest of the bag. They all pick up the body, Ian near her head, getting a good view of her sagging old lady tits, and nearly throw her on the bed, with a lot of groaning and complaining. 

“Okay,” Fiona says, straightening up. Lip throws a blanket over her shoulders. “Oh boy.”

“Oh boy is right,” Mickey snaps at her. “If the police find out you took a body, you’re in serious shit.”

“Thanks, Mickey,” Fiona sighs. 

“Okay,” Lip says, then holds up wire cutters. “Who wants to do the honors?” Everyone freezes. “Look, the real Aunt Ginger lost a toe. Somebody’s got to snip it!” 

Silence. 

“V, you’re a nurse.” Lip holds the cutter out to her, but she shakes her head. 

“Not a chance!”

Then Ian decides that if he’s this far along in their will scam, he might as well keep going. He jumps up and takes the wire cutters from Lip, flipping them in his hand and shifting his weight from side to side as he tries to build up the courage to cut her toe off. 

He steps forward and rests the cutters against her toe, and Fiona blurts out, “Won’t it bleed?”

“No, heart stopped pumping,” V says. 

Ian lets out a sigh and squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself. Is he really going to do this? Yes. Yes he is. He’s going to cut an old dead lady’s toe off. He can do this. 

No he can’t. 

“Ugh, fuck, no, no, nope,” he says, shaking his head as he passes the wire cutters off to Fiona. Oh god, he’s so grossed out right now. He could throw up. 

Fiona takes her stance at the foot of the old lady, and is about to cut, when all of a sudden, a door bangs open downstairs. 

It’s Debbie, stuffing her face with chicken and drinking milk straight from the carton. 

“Debbie?” Fiona says, switching on the light. “What’s going on?”

“Are you okay?” Lip demands. 

“Uh, I can’t talk,” Debbie replies, turning back to the fridge. “Hungry.”

“Are they not feeding you?” Fiona asks. 

“Do we have any more milk?”

“You’re not going back there,” Fiona decides, glancing at Lip. Ian leans over and checks on Aileen. She’s passed out. 

“I gotta bring food to the others!” Debbie says desperately. 

“Grab bread and cereal, we’re gonna need grocery bags,” V commands, and they all move about the kitchen, grabbing random shit as Fiona marches back upstairs to cut the dead lady’s toe off. 

Ian, Lip, and Mickey (and Aileen) tag along with Debbie as she leads them back to her foster house. It’s a run down piece of shit, and Debbie tells them horror stories about her foster mom, who’s exploiting child labor to make jewlrey. 

“Jesus, that’s all kinds of fucked up,” Lip says with a sneer. 

Debbie takes the grocery bags from them. “Thanks,” she says. She looks so sad, so dejected, and Ian crouches down.

“Hey,” he says, staring into her eyes. “The trail’s tomorrow. Fiona’s gonna win, and we’re gonna all be back together soon, okay?” She nods, and Ian pulls her into a hug. 

They say goodbye, and start making their way in the direction of the group home. It’s nearly 9, they’re about 3 hours late, but Ian doesn’t care. Just before they turn the corner to the Gunderson House, Ian pulls Mickey in for a kiss. 

“You’ll be cool going back by yourself?”

“Jesus, I ain’t a baby, Gallagher. Yes, I can find my way back. Besides, I have my .22.”

Ian grins down at him. Tomorrow, and then everything will go back to normal. He says bye to Aileen with a kiss on her forehead as she sleeps, then he and Mickey part ways. 

“You gonna kiss me too?” Lip asks, and Ian shoves at him. 

***

DiAndre bears down hard. He takes away Ian’s cellphone and screams at Lip. Lip doesn’t give two shits. Tomorrow, they’re going to court, and he’ll never have to go back to the group home again. 

He and Ian head out as soon as breakfast is over, and meet up with Mickey and Aileen and Mandy, then see the rest of their family right outside the courtroom. 

“Is there room for us?” Lip jokes when he spies Fiona squeezing the lives out of Debbie and Carl. She grins and pulls him in for a hug. 

“Did you get the will?” she asks in an undertone. 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

She jerks her head. “Go file it, now.”

He and Mandy make their way downstairs as the rest of the family go into the courtroom.

The lady behind the desk looks bored and like she wants to be anywhere but here, waving a fan against the summer heat. 

“Hi, uh, Cleopatra,” he says, leaning in close to read her name tag. He slips the will to 

her. “I’m here to file a will, please. If you could just-” 

She takes it from him and reads it. “Ginger Gallagher?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Second one today.”

Lip pauses. “What?”

“Had another will filed earlier.”

“Um… how-how’s that possible?”

Cleopatra sighs and reaches over, grabbing another piece of paper. She reads it for a second. “It’s dated last year,” she reports. “Supersedes yours.”

“Who the hell filed it?” Lip asks. Is it fucking Frank?

She holds the will up for them to see. 

“Patrick Gallagher,” Mandy reads. 

Jesus, shit. “Cousin Patrick.”

“Did she leave the house to him?”

Lip can’t say it. They don’t have a house. Fucking Patrick. He’s been on their case for a long fucking time now. But there’s nothing he can do, so he just thanks Cleopatra and he and Mandy return upstairs to the courtroom.

***

“DFS. I’d like to get us started here,” the judge says. 

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Sturgis replies. “Britney Sturgis, Department of Family Services. After receiving a report about the Gallagher home, I found the children under Francis Gallagher’s care in a state of neglect. We subsequently removed the children from the home for their own protection.”

Ian shifts in his seat. He’s sitting in the spectator seats, next to V, who’s holding Liam on her lap, and Mickey, who’s got Aileen. They had brought her today, but thankfully no one had asked any questions, and she’s quiet right now, chewing on her teether and nestled in Mickey’s arms. 

“Mr. Gallagher,” the judge says, turning to Frank. “You want the children back?”

Frank spreads his hands. “They’re my kids, Your Honor.”

The judge purses his lips and glances down at their file. “The mother has relinquished her parental rights.”

“What does that mean?” Carl bursts out, next to Fiona. 

“Monica doesn’t want to be our mom?” Debbie asks. 

Fiona leans towards them. “She did it for you guys, so I can bring you home.”

“And Ms. Gallagher has filed a petition to terminate the father’s parental rights,” the judge continues, guestering at Frank. 

“Yes, Your Honor,” Fiona says. 

“Are you prepared to assume custody?”

“I am. I can provide a stable environment for the kids, something that has been sorely lacking with our father. I have a full-time job, and I will soon own a home.” She hands a piece of paper over to her lawyer, O’Dell, who stands up and hands it to the judge. 

He reads it over, then asks the oldest to testify about Frank. Lip’s not there right now, so Ian speaks up. It’s not hard, describing how Frank would leave for months, black-out drunk, sleeping under train tracks and scamming people. The judge asks about the last one in particular, the last one, where Frank had left right after Thanksgiving and didn’t return until Easter.

“And how did that make you feel?” the judge asks him. 

Ian shrugs. “Honestly, I’m just used to it. It’s just what he does. Anyway, not like I wanted him around with my baby.”

“You have a baby?”

 _Shit._ Ian mentally curses himself. But it’s too late to go back now. “Uh, yes, Your Honor.” He gestures to Aileen, who’s playing with Mickey’s fingers. 

“You’re the other father?” the judge as Mickey, who nods. Ian can see his jaw clench. 

“Ian, do you find your father a threat to your child?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, but he hasn't done anything yet,” Ian replies honestly. “We try to keep her away from him.”

The judge nods. “Thank you,” he says, then turns to Carl. “Your brother, Ian, testified about your father’s month-long absence. “Did his disappearance make you sad?” Ian feels a tap on his shoulder and glances behind him to see Lip taking a seat. He nods at his brother. 

Carl shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Were you glad when he came back?” the judge presses. 

“He got me into camp,” Carl says, glancing at Frank. 

The judge perkes up at that. 

“My first time,” Carl explains. 

“Did you have a good time at camp?”

Carl grins then, and glances at Frank again. “Yeah!” 

_Fuck. Goddammit, Carl. You’re supposed to make him seem like the fucking worst person ever._

“What about you, Deborah?” the judge says, guestering to Debbie. “Were you glad when your father came back?”

“I was glad he wasn’t dead,” Debbie replies. 

“Did you miss him while he was gone?”

“Uh, very much.”

“Did he get you into camp?”

Debbie shakes her head. “I spent the summer at the pool. Daddy helps me learn.”

“Fuck,” Ian breaths out, leaning back in his seat. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. His fingers find Mickey’s, and he holds on tight, and he’s kind of surprised Mickey lets him. 

“Ms. Gallagher, you have very special children,” the judge says after he’s done with Debbie. 

“That’s why I had to leave, Your Honor,” Frank pipes up. “I couldn’t stand to see them live through my battles with addiction any longer. It’s my fight, not theirs.”

“So you left?” the judge asks. 

“To get help,” Frank says simply. “Sometimes the hardest part is admitting you need it. And I didn’t want to come home until I was clean and sober- a father they could be proud of. It isn’t easy, but-” Frank pulls out a small, blue chip. “But everyday I have one of these is a good day.”

Ian has to scoff at that. Frank hasn’t been sober since the day he was born. 

Fiona laughs. “You’re not buying this, are you?” The judge tries to calm her down, but she’s on a roll. “Have you seen his record?”

“Right here,” the judge responds, and starts to read from a file. “Breaking and entering, drunken disorderlies, public urination, solicitation, possession, possession with intent, domestic disturbance, 4 DUIs, and you don’t even own a car,” he finishes. 

“Alcohol is a cruel mistress,” Frank says. 

“He hasn’t stopped drinking and he never will,” Fiona says simply. 

“Your Honor, if I may,” Frank says, standing up. “Fiona has been hurt by my behavior too many times to believe I’ve changed- that’s my fault, not hers. She has kept things going in my absence, and I will be forever grateful.” Ian sighs, rubbing at his bottom lip. “I’m not the perfect parent. I love to have a good time, to live life to the fullest, sometimes… I go too far. But I love my kids.” He glances back at them. “They mean the world to me. I don’t know- I don’t know what I’d be if I wasn’t a dad. I’d be nothing. Please don’t take my kids away from me.” Then he sits down. 

Ian’s kind of amazed he can make his voice wobble like that. 

“Ms. Gallagher,” the judge says after Frank’s fake speech. “You wanna tell me why your father should be declared unfit?”

Fiona’s silent for a moment. 

“We were living out of a car once,” she says after a while. “Uncle Nick had kicked us out. Couldn’t find anyone else who’d take us in. Lip and Ian and me were sleeping in the backseat when Frank pulled over- middle of the night. Think it was Hollistead. He told me to take the boys and sit on the curb and he’d be right back. I was 6.” Ian can feel Mickey’s fingers tighten around his. 

“Few hours later, we’re still sitting on the sidewalk, and Ian’s head is burning up. He’s hysterical, I don’t know what to do. So I ran down the street, Lip under one arm, Ian under the other, trying to flag down help. Woulda been easier scoring crack than a ride down to the clinic. I finally made it on foot. They said Ian had a fever of 104. Another couple of hours, and who knows. I didn’t find Frank ‘till a couple of days later. First thing he asked me was how much money I had on me. I wish I could say that was the only time, but it was just the first. 

“My mother’s bipolar, and my father’s an alcoholic, and an addict. He takes what he pleases, and he offers nothing. No money, no support. I’ve done what I could to help raise my siblings. I wish I coulda done more. I’m not asking for your pity, or your admiration. I just wanna be able to give these kids what they deserve because they’re great kids. And they deserve better.”

The judge seems to think for a moment, then bangs his gravel. “Chambers, please.”

He takes Fiona and her lawyer into his office, and Ian lets out a long sigh. 

“Christ, if we did this for Terry, we’d be sitting here all day and night,” Mickey murmurs to him. Ian reaches out and traces a finger down Aileen’s cheek. She squirms in Mickey’s lap and reaches out, catching a hold of Ian’s hand and bringing his finger to her mouth. She chews on it, and he can feel her bottom teeth poking into her skin as she stares up at him. He can see the love, the trust in her eyes. 

He’s never going to be like Frank. 

Never, fucking ever. 

Eventually, the judge, Fiona, and the lawyer come back into the courtroom, taking up their original seats. 

“Mr. Gallagher, you’ve admitted it’s been challenging to handle this responsibility on your own,” the judge says once they’ve resumed the session. “Now if I allow you to retain your parental rights, would you consent to your daughter becoming guardian of these children?”

Frank pauses. “They’d still be my kids?”

“Provided you attend 60 days of AA.” 

“But she’d have all the responsibilities?” he asks, pointing to Fiona. 

“Not _all,_ but yes,” the judge answers. 

Frank nods. “Works for me.”

The judge gestures to Fiona, and she stands up. “Do you agree to be the guardian of these 

children?” 

Fiona pauses for a moment, and Ian can feel his heart thump in his chest. For years now, Fiona’s taken care of them. She’s raised them, wiped their runny noses, dried their tears, supported them at school, and been there when Frank and Monica weren’t. She’s already their guardian, now she’s just getting the court to recognize her as such. So why is she hesitating? 

“Yes, I do,” she finally says. 

“That would be my order then,” the judge says. He spreads his hands and bangs his gavel on his desk. “Take your children home.”

That’s all Ian wants to hear. 

The courtroom erupts in whoops and Ian jumps up, throwing his arms up. Carl bear hugs Fiona, and Lip jerks Ian around to pull him in for a hug. V laughs loudly, handing Liam off to Jimmy, and Ian bends down to hug Carl after he’s let Fiona go. Mickey’s grinning at him, and no one even notices when Frank slips out of the courtroom.

They make it back to the Gallagher house, and spirits are running high. They’re finally free from Frank. 

“Who wants to go to the pool?” Lip asks as they pour in the house, throwing his backpack down in the living room. 

“I got swim diapers,” Ian calls out as he snatches them from beside Liam’s playpen, Aileen on one arm. 

The weather is on their side today, and it’s sunny and beautiful out, unlike the rest of the summer has been; unusually cold and cloudy. Ian slips floaties onto Aileen’s arms and passes her off to Mickey, who’s already in the pool, and he gently lowers her down into the water. Lip, Mandy, Fiona, and Debbie are having a chicken fight on the other end while Carl tries to sabotage them. 

Aileen squeals and kicks her legs under the water, her face screwing up. Mickey chuckles and hugs her to his chest as Ian slips in next to her. 

“Aw, it’s okay,” he coos as she starts whimpering. He splashes some water onto her arm, but she doesn't like that either, and starts screaming. 

“Jesus,” Mickey mutters, lifting her out of the water. “Guess she doesn’t like water either.”

“Hey, she’s only 7 months,” Ian points out. “She’ll learn how to swim.”

“Why’s she crying?” Carl asks, shaking his head and spraying water everywhere. 

“She doesn’t like the water, like any sensible person,” Mickey snaps back at him. 

Carl shrugs, then pounces on Ian’s shoulders, shoving him under the water. Ian and Carl wrestle as Mickey takes Aileen out of the pool, settling to sitting on the back steps with her, where she’s much happier. 

Nearly an hour, a drowned Mandy, and Carl accidentally unclipping Fiona’s bikini top later, the Gallaghers drag themselves out of the pool. Mickey had taken Aileen over to the grass, letting her roll around the uneven yard (a product from Fiona digging it up to find Aunt Ginger’s bones), and Ian scoops her up, lifting her over her head. 

She babbles, the trauma of swimming forgotten, and stretches her limbs out like she’s flying. 

Mickey wraps an arm around his waist and Lip drags Mandy back into the pool after she just got out and Ian’s smiling so wide his face hurts. 

“Jesus, you on some serious shit right now?” Mickey asks him, and he shakes his head. 

“Nah, just happy.” Ian settles Aileen on his hip and Mickey’s fingers trail over his hip. 

“Well, think you can turn that happiness into something else?”

Ian grins down at his boyfriend. “Absolutely.”

***

It’s colder than he thought, for August in Chicago. The thin t-shirt and shorts Diego got for him aren’t cutting it. He’s a long way from his house, and is desperately hungry, but he needs to keep moving or else they’ll find him. 

His feet hurt, and he needs a smoke and to fuck a pussy, but he keeps moving. 

He keeps moving because he knows every step he takes is one step closer to getting his hands on that faggot’s throat, and squeezing until the light dies from his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm holding out hope for the camo kiss. If it truly is cut, I have a few words I'd like to share with John Wells. I'm also very excited for Lip's HOS episode next week; I'm absolutely in love with Freddie. :) Also, HELLO? Fiona episode???  
> Look for chapter 8 sometime this next weekend!


	8. Where There's a Will, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Or convince Patrick to back off somehow,” Jimmy says.   
> Debbie nods. “Mmm-hmm, that’s option 3.”  
> Mickey cracks his neck. “Pretty sure I got that covered,” he says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it's pretty short. But episode 8 has a lot of content in it, and I feel like it's waaaay too long to put into one chapter.

Mickey had never liked babies. He’d always found them too loud, too gross, and too pathetic. They couldn’t even use the shitter by themselves. He had never had much experience- he was the third youngest in his entire family, with only Mandy (and he guesses Molly) and his cousin Andy being younger than him. 

His mom’s coworker, some chick named Daniella, had a baby, and was over at their house a lot because her husband was abusive. Her kid was fat and colicky, and could never shut up. Mickey had put some alcohol on a napkin once and shoved it in the baby’s face, because he had heard his father mention that. His mother yelled at him for 10 minutes straight, but it shut the kid up for a while so he could hear his own thoughts. 

Babies in public places had always bothered him. They always seemed to cry at the wrong moments, like when its mom was frantically looking for spare change in her purse at the checkout line in a grocery store. 

So Mickey had never seen the appeal in babies. Why would you want something that was only going to scream and shit itself and take all your money and never let you sleep? 

That is, until he got his own. In his opinion, Aileen is the best baby in the whole world.

She doesn’t cry too much (at least, without reason) and when she does, she’s fairly easy to calm down- just rock her and distract her with a toy, and the tears are forgotten. She poops on a regular schedule, so Mickey doesn't have to wait for her to start crying to know to change her diaper. She laughs and smiles and sometimes Mickey thinks she winks at him. Not to mention she’s so fucking adorable. 

But she’s the most adventurous kid Mickey’s ever known. She’s started scooting, not exactly crawling, just wriggling on her stomach as she kicks at the carpet underneath her feet and propelling herself forward a few inches. She can hold her chest up fully, and her finger dexterity is getting better, and she can grasp onto things so much easier. 

Like now, and she’s trying to open the bottom drawer of Mickey’s dresser. 

“Shit, not there,” he hisses out, quickly picking her up. She startles, her feet lifting up towards the center of her body, then relaxes and giggles when she realizes it’s just her daddy. “I think you’re too young to know what anal beads are,” he tells her, poking at her tummy. 

She burbles and waves her arms in the air, and Mickey sets her down again on the floor. She wriggles in place a little bit, then her feet find purchase and she squirms towards a discarded stuffed lion, wrapping it around the neck with her little fingers and trying to fit it all in her mouth. 

“Hey, you almost ready to go?” Ian asks, coming in from the bathroom, toweling off his still-damp hair. He’s let it grow out from the buzzcut he had earlier in the summer, and it’s starting to get kind of curly on the top, and Mickey finds he doesn’t mind one bit. 

“Yeah,” he replies. “Let’s go to the fake funeral for your great-aunt who’s been dead for more than a fucking decade so your annoying-ass cousin can have some closure.”

Ian just grins at him. “Exactly.”

Mickey’s never really known how big the Gallagher family is. He’d always thought his family was huge, but maybe the Gallaghers have surpassed the Milkoviches at this point. Apparently Cousin Patrick is technically Frank’s cousin, the son of the brother of Frank’s dad, but they were never close, as Patrick’s father and Frank’s father had a falling out in high school and never recovered from it. 

Rather than having them meet at a funeral home, Patrick drags them all out to the side of a curb in the heart of the Southside. The two sides of the Gallagher family gather together, and Patrick starts his speech. 

“Thank you all for coming out in honor of Aunt Ginger,” he says, glancing around at their weird mis-matched group. “Well, GiGi, as I called her. You know, when the guy at the funeral place handed me her ashes, I thought, what the hell do I do with these?” He glances down at the ashes and shrugs. “But them in a vase on my mantle or scatter them at a park or at the lake? Then I thought, no. I know where she was happiest. On this corner, _her_ corner.” Frank nods seriously. “Where she turned tricks in her twenties and thirties-”

“Sixties,” Frank throws in helpfully, taking a swig from his beer. Mickey lets out a long-suffering sigh. Jesus, can Frank shut up for one second so Patrick can continue his speech and they can get the hell out of there? 

“She did magic tricks?” Carl asks. 

“No, no, son, turning tricks is a euphamism for prostitution.” Looks like those parenting classes really paid off. “In her day, your great aunt was a _legendary_ pole-smoker. She could unlock her jaw like a Bermese python.”

“We are at her funeral,” Jimmy says in an undertone to him, standing with his arms crossed and shades over his eyes. 

Apparently Frank’s not done yet. “You know, some think Gallaghers don’t have a work ethic, but Ginger worked this corner, rain, sleet, snow- her old knees hitting that hard pavement again and again.” Fiona rolls her eyes. “Birdie Gittleman’s the only one who’s outlasted her,” he says, then raises his beer to the old woman in a wheelchair with a bagged bottle who up until this point, Mickey thought was just another Gallagher. 

“Look, you all knew Ginger, so I ain’t gonna sugar coat it,” Patrick says, and Aileen starts to squirm in Mickey’s hold, bored. “She was a mean old bitch. But even a mean old bitch deserves a send off.”

“Hear, hear,” Frank says. 

“So this is us, Ginger, sending you off,” Patrick says, raising the box of her ashes high above his head dramatically. He walks towards the curb and the Gallaghers move in closer. “Right where you belong,” he adds, then upends the box and dumps her all over the side of the street. 

“It’s touching,” Lip says. 

“I’m tearing up,” Ian whines out, and Mickey coughs, waving away the dust that’s floated his way through the air. 

Patrick drops the box on the ground, then straightens up and says, “Okay, kids, let’s go.” His family turns to leave, but Fiona stops him. 

“So, Ginger had a will we didn’t know about?” she asks, Mickey, Lip and Ian moving up behind her. “And you just had it sitting in a drawer?”

“Yup,” Patrick replies, nodding. 

Jesus, this guy is fucking difficult. 

“And even though she hated your _guts,_ she left our house to you?”

“Eh, it was never your house,” Patrick says. 

“I mean it’s weird, how she signed the will only a year ago, you know with her being an invalid, and all,” Lip tries. 

“Signed and notarized,” Patrick tells him. 

“I don’t remember you coming by with a lawyer.”

“I gotta get back to my family,” he says, glancing around at them. 

Fiona tries one more time. “8 kids with nowhere else to go.”

“Why don’t we talk about when the sting of losing Ginger’s worn off, hmm? Tomorrow, maybe?” And with that, he turns and leaves. 

“Want me to knock some sense into him?” Mickey asks. “I gotta Marucci in the basement.” He hasn’t beaten anyone up since Ned, and his fingers are itching to do it again. 

Fiona sighs. “No, Mickey, that’s okay.” She turns and watches the rest of the Gallaghers walk away, blissfully ignorant. 

“You wanna tell them or should I?” Lip asks. 

Fiona ends up telling the rest of the family once they're back home, standing in the kitchen. It’s funny, Mickey thinks, how just a week ago, they had thrown him an 18th birthday party, with heavy bass music and booze and good drugs, and now they’re all deathly silent, frowning and crossing their arms. 

“You appreciate the irony, right?” Frank says all of a sudden. “Endless arguments about who gets what bedroom, refusing to allow me to stay, now nobody gets to stay!” He chuckles. 

“Why’s Frank here again?” Ian asks, bored. 

“There’s a small chance he’ll be able to help, since he’s known Patrick longer than any of us,” Fiona responds, guestering to their father. 

“Patrick wants to steal our house?” Carl asks. 

“He’s a contractor,” Lip explains. “He’s gonna flip it. Slap a coat of paint on it, call it a ‘cozy authentic pre-war,’ and offload it to yuppies.”

“Jesus, he sounds like a little bitch,” Mickey says. 

“Not gonna happen,” Fiona assures Carl, grabbing the coffee pot. “So let’s go over our options.”

“I’ll write them down!” Debbie says. 

As they move to the kitchen table, Ian says, “Look, we know the will’s bullshit. It was signed a year ago, and uh, Ginger’s been dead for what, 10?”

Fiona laughs as she sets down coffee mugs. “More like 15.”

“Option 1: Prove will’s a forgery,” Debbie says out loud, writing it down in her pink sparkly notebook. Mickey settles down next to Ian, placing Aileen on his knee as she chews on her teether. She’s starting to get two of her top teeth in now. 

“And we can’t call the cops, because we faked Ginger’s death, and forged a will of our own,” Lip continues, pouring coffee into his mug. 

“Plus Frank’s been cashing Ginger’s social security checks,” Fiona says. 

“Oh, like you didn’t share in that bounty,” Frank slurs from the counter, where he’s nursing a beer. Fiona shoots him a glare. 

“You know what we could do? We could argue Ginger wasn’t of sound mind when she signed it,” Lip says, and Debbie writes that down. “I mean, she’s never of sound mind anyway.”

“Do you know how many times other people have tried to argue that?” Mickey throws in. “I’m pretty sure courts are told to ignore that argument, Phillip.”

“Or convince Patrick to back off somehow,” Jimmy says. 

Debbie nods. “Mmm-hmm, that’s option 3.”

Mickey cracks his neck. “Pretty sure I got that covered,” he says. 

“Good luck with that,” Frank says. “His nickname used to be ‘Pitbull.’ It was partly an odor thing, but also because once he gets a hold of you, he doesn’t let go. You gotta kill him first.”

“Option 4: Kill Patrick,” Debbie says. 

Mickey shrugs. “Shouldn’t be too difficult.” He can get his cousins in on this one- Joey’s already sent 2 people to the hospital. 

“Time to face reality,” Frank continues. “Patrick out-Gallaghered us, and there’s no point in fighting it.” He sits on top of the counter. 

“Easy for you to say, you’re at Sheila’s,” Ian says, a hand resting on his cheek as he plays absentmindedly with Aileen’s fingers. 

“So, before you’re out on the streets like so many Somolian refugees,” Frank says, ignoring him. “Ask yourselves- if Patrick is taking the house, what are we taking?” He spreads his hands and pauses for dramatic effect. “Copper. Pipes.”

Fiona rolls her eyes. “You’re not taking the pipes, Frank!” 

“Uh!” Aileen says, dropping her teether on the floor. Ian bends down to pick it up and makes his way over to sink to wash it off. 

“You really think there’s a way to challenge the will?” Fiona asks Lip. 

“Why not, you know, if I can bone up on probate law?” he replies. 

“All in favor?” Fiona asks, and Mickey raises his hand along with the rest of the Gallaghers and Jimmy. “Unanimous,” she declares, slapping her hands on the table and getting up. 

Frank, who didn’t raise his hand, says, “Like hell it is!”

“Lip will handle the will,” she continues. “The rest of you, start to get ready for the first day of school in a week. Debbie, Carl, look at your clothes and see if you need anything else.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to kill him?” Carl asks, and Fiona slaps him on the head. 

Mickey points at him. “I like your thinking, kid,” he says. 

***

One week left. 

One week until his senior year. 

He’s not sure what to think. Fiona didn’t finish high school, and neither did Frank or Monica, and neither did Mickey. Lip looks like he’s going to be the first Gallagher to make it all 4 years, well, 4 ½, in his case, as he still has to finish 1 semester after he got suspended last year. 

Ian doesn't want to go back to school. He’s enjoyed spending time with Aileen, and he kind of likes working, even though he’s starting to hate the Kash N’ Grab. And it’s not like he’s going to high school to do anything- he’s just going because it’s the law. He’s kind of given up on West Point. It’s a shitton of money, and his grades aren’t good enough to get in and get a scholarship. 

He figures he should just work instead of bothering with college. Who the fuck was he kidding? And if he’s not planning on going to college, what’s the point in high school, when he could just be working and raising money for his daughter? It’s what Mickey’s doing, anyway. 

“So, I’ve been thinking,” he says slowly to Mickey as they’re walking down South Lowe. He’s pushing Aileen’s stroller, the screen tilted back so she can stare up at the sunshine. 

“Finally,” Mickey snarks, and he bumps him with his shoulder. 

“High school is a shit show anyway, and I’m really learning nothing I could learn on my own. So, what if I don’t go to senior year? I could start working early, help with the money.”

Mickey glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “What are you on about right now, Gallagher?”

Ian spreads his hands. “Well, I mean, it won’t be very useful if I go back to school, because that means I can’t work.”

“So you’re just gonna drop out? Make sure that neither of Aileen’s parents finish high school? Then how the hell is she going to finish, huh? Who is she going to have to look up to?”

Ian doesn't reply. He’s never- fuck- he’s never thought about Aileen’s future before. He’s been more worried about working enough to make enough money tomorrow to combat with the Gallagher house bills and the cost of raising an infant. 

They take a left onto W 46th, and Ian reaches out and grabs Mickey’s hand. 

“Okay, so you want me to finish school?”

“I don’t _want_ you to do anything,” Mickey fires back. “You _need_ to finish high school. If you do, you can get a much better job. Me? I’ll be stuck stacking cans at the Kash N’ Grab ‘till I’m 60.”

“Don’t say that.”

Mickey shrugs, and takes his hand back. “S’true, Gallagher.”

Ian thinks about it some more. As he does go to a public school, the graduation requirements aren’t ridiculously too much, and he has gotten a lot of credits already with the summer classes he took after sophomore year when he was still obsessed with getting into West Point. 

“Maybe I could graduate early,” he says then. “Maybe by December.”

Mickey glances over at him. “But you’d still graduate? Like get a fucking high school diploma and all that shit?”

Ian nods. “Yeah.” If he’s done his calculations correctly, he has enough credits for his core classes, he just needs his art credit, which he’s taking the first semester of this year. But after he’s done with that, sometime in January, he could be done with school. 

Then he could get a good job and start providing for Aileen. 

God, he understands why Lip was so keen on dropping out of school last year. It makes his chest warm to know that he can take care of his family. He’s staring down at Mickey without even realizing it, because his boyfriend glares at him and snaps, “What?”

Ian says nothing, just smiles at him, and Aileen coos from her stroller. Mickey gently brushes her hair with his flat palm, and she tilts her head back, trying to see him better. 

They make their way back to the Gallagher house, and Ian tries to savor the last moments he has within it. Mickey has Aileen out of her stroller, bouncing her on his hip, when the doorbell rings. 

It’s Karen Jackson. 

Her hair is curly and slightly darker, and there are dark circles underneath her eyes, and her flannel is kind of hanging off of her, and she’s not glaring or smirking like Ian’s always known her, but she looks scared and nervous. 

“Karen?” he says in disbelief. “Didn’t you leave?”

She spreads her hands. “Now I’m back.” She peeks into the house, staring at Mickey, who’s moved to stand behind Ian. “That your kid?”

“Yes,” Ian says when Mickey doesn’t respond. She gave her own baby up- why the fuck does she want to know about theirs? 

She nods. “She’s about 9 months now, right?”

“Sure.”

“The fuck are you doing back?” Mickey asks, speaking for the first time. 

Karen ignores him. “Is Lip around?”

“Uh, he’s upstairs, why?”

Karen twists her hands together. “Would you tell him I wanna talk to him?” 

Ian glances at Mickey, who raises his eyebrows at him. 

“Sure, whatever. Wait outside.” 

She nods, wringing her hands, and Ian shuts the door on her. He doesn't want to invite her inside, as Mandy’s there right now, and that could be a shit show. 

“What the fuck is she doing?” Mickey hisses to him. 

“I have no idea.”

***

Lip’s in the middle of getting a blowjob from Mandy while looking at how to challenge Patrick’s fake will for Ginger when Ian knocks on his door. Turns out Karen’s back. 

Fucking Karen. 

She got pregnant, let Lip believe it was his, then pushed out an Asian baby, didn’t even want it, and ran away. 

Why the fuck is she back? 

“I rang the doorbell, but Ian had me wait out here,” is the first thing she says to him. She looks almost timid, clasping her hands together in front of her chest, her elbows bent, her hair messy. “I don’t think he likes me anymore.”

“I don’t think he ever liked you,” Lip replies. He doesn't know what to think. He hates her, he really does, but seeing her again _does_ things to him- things he tried to forget by dating Mandy. 

“I got your message,” Karen says, and Lip nods. That message he left after his fight with Mandy a month ago. He yelled into her voicemail for a bit, then hung up, and, feeling better, made things right with Mandy. 

“Right, the uh, one where I told you to go fuck yourself?”

Karen smiles, and Lip tries to ignore the dimple on her chin. 

“It was nice to hear your voice,” she says. She looks two seconds away from crying. 

Lip notices a tattoo on her arm that hadn’t been there 9 months ago. 

“The Eiffel Tower?”

Karen pulls back her sleeve to show it more. “Yeah, this guy said he’d take me to Paris so I had this done… But he took all my money and tried to sell me to a Sheikh from Yemen.” _What the fuck?_ “So yeah, things got bad for a little while, but anyways… I- I’m home now.” She shrugs.

“Well, that sounds shitty,” is the only reply Lip can think of. 

“Is Mandy inside?” Karen asks. 

Lip turns back to the house. “Yeah,” he responds.

They’re silent for a moment, before Karen says, “So that’s why Ian had me wait out here.”

“That’d be my guess.”

“Are you happy?” she asks then, and Lip freezes. 

Is he?

“Sure.” 

“Well good, because I- I want you to be happy,” Karen says. “You deserve it.”

Lip looks away because he can feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes. The memories of what he and Karen used to be come rushing back, and he feels overwhelming guilt. “Right, well, I better get back,” he says, because he doesn’t want to think about what he’s feeling right now. 

He’s with Mandy- he needs to stay with Mandy. He can’t let Karen distract him. 

As he’s walking away, Karen calls after him, “You look good,” and Lip tries his hardest not to look at her, but he caves. 

“Welcome back,” he calls over his shoulder. 

He doesn’t let Mandy finish her blowjob.

***

Aileen’s officially 9 months old by the time Ian’s first day of senior years rolls around. After she’s done eating her baby yogurt for breakfast, Mickey balances her on his thighs, holding onto her armpits as she stands. She tries to reach for the jug of orange juice on the table, overbalancing so Ian has to place a firm hand on her chest. 

“If we have to move, where do we go?” Carl asks then, munching on the 3 biscuits he took for his breakfast.

“We’re not moving,” Fiona insists from the sink. 

“Uh-huh, she can keep telling herself that, but we all know what big boys with even bigger pockets can do,” Mickey tells Ian in an undertone. 

“Ah!” Aileen says. 

Debbie comes down then, wearing an off-shoulder black shirt and a glittery skirt and her hair done up in a style only Mandy could teach her. 

“That is not the outfit we picked out for your first day and you are so not leaving in that,” Fiona says, shaking her head as she packs lunches. 

Mickey catches Mandy’s eye and raises an eyebrow at her, and his sister just smirks back. Yeah. This is totally Mandy’s doing. 

“I borrowed it from Mandy,” Debbie says. 

“Clearly,” Ian says, then ducks when Mandy smacks his shoulder. 

“You _do_ realize that I’m in middle school now, right?” Debbie tries. 

“Yeah,” Fiona responds. “Not stripper school, go change.” She gestures upstairs, and Debbie rolls her eyes, but obeys. Mickey doesn’t get what Fiona’s deal is. It’s not like bitches in 7th grade won’t be dressing any differently. Hell, some will even be wearing clothes much more skanky than Debbie’s. 

Just then, someone pounds on the front door, and Fiona points to it. “Somebody get that?” No one moves, and she leans over to yell at Mandy. 

Mandy growls back at her, then stomps off to the bathroom. Aileen nearly topples over onto the table again, and Mickey sets her back down in her high chair and hands her a cheerio from his cereal. She pokes at it, then tries to grab it with her forefinger and thumb. 

“Jeez, Fi, she’s just trying to help,” Lip says. Then the banging on the door comes back, and he gets up to answer it. 

“Can you take Liam tomorrow, too?” Fiona asks V, who, to be honest, Mickey has no idea what she’s doing there. 

“Not sure yet,” she answers. “Those Fruit of Islam people on 4th have a free daycare. If I say I hate whitie, I bet they’ll watch him for a few hours.” Then she leans in close to Fiona and says in what obviously is her version of a whisper, “So is Lip getting serious about Mandy Skankovich?”

Mandy, who just came out of the bathroom, hears her. “Nice.”

V turns around to her. “Oh shit, Mandy, I’m sorry. You know I never would have said that to your face.”

Mandy just stomps up the stairs, and Ian sighs, standing up and drinking the last of his coffee before he goes after her and tries to calm her down.

“Should I apologize or leave?” V says, then grabs a biscuit. “Imma leave.”

“I would check under your blankets for knives,” Mickey calls after her. 

Fiona raises an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” he says. “I’ve lived with that bitch, and let me tell you, she can turn pretty homicidal when she’s pissed.”

“-you’re not entitled to shit!” comes Lip’s voice from the living room. 

Ian pauses on the stairs and glances back. 

Patrick Gallagher is stomping through the living room like he owns the place. 

“Patrick?” Fiona says, confused. 

Patrick jerks his thumb over his shoulder at the two boys who followed him in. “You remember my sons, Desmond and Warren?” 

Mickey thinks they look kind of funny- one’s tall and fat and red, and the other one is skinnier than a string bean, with mousy brown hair. 

“What are you doing here?” Fiona asks. 

“Ah, just a quick walkthrough to assess repairs, shouldn’t take too long,” Patrick replies. 

“Oh, it’d be quicker if you just left,” Ian says, walking towards him. Mickey follows him. If a fight breaks out, he wants to be the one to grab Patrick’s throat. 

“You’re the ones who are gonna be leaving,” Patrick tells him. 

“Yeah, assuming your bullshit will stands up in court,” Lip says, scoffing.

Patrick rounds on him. “Probate hearing’s on Thursday.”

“This Thursday?” Fiona asks, crossing her arms. 

“Why prolong the inevitable? I’m gonna need you out on Saturday, so I can spray the place with incestoside, rip up this piss carpet, and make it livable.” He turns to his sons. “Boys,” he says to them. “Starts upstairs.” 

“We got kids living here,” Fiona presses, following him as he heads towards the front stairs. “Two babies! And you’re just gonna throw us out? How do you sleep at night?”

“Don’t blame your miserable goddamn lives on me,” Patrick shoots back at her, starting up the stairs. Fiona sighs. 

“No, but seriously, I could rough him up,” Mickey says to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up by Monday! Don't forget to leave comments and kudos.  
> It always made me sad that Ian never finished high school because of his bipolar, and you need a diploma or a GED to be an EMT, and I don't think we ever saw him get his GED, so that never made sense to me. So he does end up finishing high school here.  
> Side note- everyone send good vibes. We're having an E. coli outbreak in my town.


	9. Where There's a Will, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aileen slaps her hands down on the couch a few times, frowning as she contemplates if the ball is worth moving on her own or not. Eventually, she makes up her mind and, grabbing onto the couch cushions for support, steps one foot in front of the other as she slowly inches her way over.   
> “Hey!” Ian laughs. “Look at you!”  
> “Fuck, she’s getting so big, man,” Mickey breathes out, and Ian glances over at him, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda pissed because I was getting into a nice groove of each chapter being each episode, but this one threw that off. Oh well.

As Mickey checks out yet _another_ drunk and mumbling customer, his mind drifts. Ian only has one semester left of high school- until January- and then he’ll be out of school and working, bringing in more money. He’ll have a high school diploma and can get a better-paying job than the Kash N’ Grab. 

They’ll be able to save up money, get Aileen better shit, and- holy fuck, maybe they’ll be able to move out of the Gallagher house. 

Not soon, Mickey knows, but having Patrick try to take the house from them gets him thinking. The Gallagher house is always crowded as fuck. It’s messy and things are constantly breaking, and Mickey can’t get a minute alone with either Ian or Aileen without someone walking in on them. 

They’re going to need their own place eventually, as Aileen’s only going to get bigger and bigger. 

An apartment would be nice. Mickey doesn’t care where it is, as long as he and Ian have a place to call their own. A place for just their family. 

As Mickey counts out $2.45 in change for an old lady, he lets himself fantasize. Just a little bit. 

Aileen’s older, maybe in elementary school now, and Ian has a good job, maybe he’s an electrician or a plumber or something, he’s always been good with his hands, and maybe Mickey’s got a different job, maybe he has his GED, and after a long day of work and school, they can eat dinner as a family together and watch TV and Ian and Mickey will put Aileen to bed together, then sneak off to their own bedroom, and Ian will fuck Mickey slow and lazily before they fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

_Shit._

It’s a life Mickey knows he can never have because the real world isn’t as nice as he wants it to be, but _fuck_ does he ache for it. He doesn't even know if he and Ian will still be together 5, 10 years down the road. He certainly hopes they will be. He’ll cut Ian’s dick off if he even thinks about leaving Mickey alone with their daughter. 

He glances at her now, sleeping in her stroller, placed securely behind the counter so that no one can see her. As Debbie’s gone back to school now, he’ll have to take her to the Kash N’ Grab everyday with him. 

Finally, at 4, his shift is up, and he takes Aileen back to the Gallagher house, as Ian had to stay after school for ROTC and couldn’t pick her up, like he normally would. 

When he gets back to the house that they probably won’t have in a week, Lip, Ian, and Mandy are all gathered around the kitchen table, leaning in close to each other. 

“The fuck is this?” Mickey asks, unstrapping Aileen from her stroller. Ian stands up and takes her from him, making ridiculous faces at her as he takes his seat again. 

“We’re figuring out what to do about Patrick,” Mandy replies. 

“I got no leads on the will,” Lip adds. 

“You thinking like, permanent damage, or just temporary? ‘Cause I know Joey’s been dying for some action ever since he got out last month.”

Ian laughs, bouncing Aileen lightly on his lap, but Lip frowns at him. 

“I think we’re gonna go for a little less, uh, life sentencing?”

“Hmm,” Mickey says, unimpressed. He sits down next to Ian and Mandy and Lip start discussing ways to ruin his house. 

It starts to near dinner time, and Debbie and Carl wander downstairs and pull up chairs, immediately getting engrossed with the conversation. It takes a while, but Mandy and Mickey finally manage to convince Lip to let them lay hands on Patrick. 

“Well, we could get our brothers,” Mandy says to Mickey just as Fiona walks into the kitchen, back from wherever the hell she went, Jimmy hot on her heels. 

Everyone stops talking and Fiona stares at them suspiciously. 

“We’ve reconvened the cousin Patrick war council,” Lip says. 

“No luck on the legal front?” Fiona asks. 

“Uh, no. Turns out it’s pretty hard to prove someone had dementia when they signed a will- in our case, very fucking hard.”

“Cause she was already dead,” Ian adds. 

“Well, what was option 2 again?” Fiona asks, leaning up against the counter. 

“We’re on 3 now,” Debbie pipes up, looking at her list. “Convince Patrick to back off.”

“Or option 4: Kill Patrick,” Carl says, and Lip smacks him on the arm. Mickey meets the kid’s eye and winks at him, and Carl practically beams. He’s got good thinking. 

“Back to 3,” Fiona says. “Convince him how?”

Mandy turns around in her chair. “We get my brothers and cousins to go around and scare him a little,” she says, but Fiona shakes her head. 

“No way! Enough with the Brothers Milkovich!” 

“Aw, c’mon,” Mickey tries. “Nothing fatal, hit him with a bat a couple of times, a little pistol-whipping. The cousins have been bored lately.” Fiona looks horrified. 

“Guys, we can’t be-” she starts, but Ian cuts her off. 

“We _need_ the house.”

Debbie gives Fiona puppy eyes, and she caves, throwing up her hands. “Fine, whatever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be scraping blood and shit from under my fingernails, and then I’ll be at V’s, getting drunk and pretending I didn’t just order a hit on a relative.”

“Alright,” Lip says, slapping the table.

Mickey texts Joey, but he’s busy with another job, so he rings Ronnie. 

“Jesus, I feel like he should be getting paid with the amount of shit he’s done for us,” Ian says, holding Aileen on his lap as she grabs onto his fingers. “You’ll be careful out there?” he says then, fixing Mickey with a stare that Mickey can feel sweep through his whole body. 

“Course I will,” Mickey says softly, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Ian’s lips. “I don’t do nothing I can’t handle, Firecrotch.” Because he’s kind of horny and likes Ian in his ROTC uniform, he throws a wink at him, and Ian returns it with his lopsided grin. 

Mickey heads out then, and meets Ronnie at the corner of 44th. Lip gave him Patrick’s address, so they head over there, Ronnie handing him the good Marucci. 

Patrick’s house looks way too fucking nice for the Southside, with fucking flower beds underneath the window sills and not a single piece of chipped off paint in sight. Mickey spies a light on in the garage, and directs Ronnie over there.

Patrick is bent over some sort of engine, music blaring, as Mickey and Ronnie walk in. He hears the creak of the door and glances up, frowning. 

“Hey,” Mickey says. “Look, you need to back off the Gallagher house. If you don’t-” Ronnie raises his bat, pointing it at Patrick. “-You’ll be sorry.”

Patrick tilts his head, studying Ronnie, then grabs his bat and jams him in the stomach. Ronnie collapses on the floor, groaning and curling in on himself. 

Mickey lets out a sigh. “Fuck’s sake,” he says. He should have pressed Joey to come. He’s like 6’-fucking-5” and could push a truck by himself. He grabs his .22 from the back of his belt, but Patrick isn’t impressed. 

“A .22?” he says. Mickey tilts his head. “You sure it’ll stop me?”

Mickey cocks it. “You wanna find out?” Ronnie’s still on the floor, breathing heavily as the wind got knocked out of him. “What the fuck are you doing?” Mickey says to him. “Get up and knock him on his ass, I got him covered.”

Just then, the door to the garage bangs open, and Mickey hears the unmistakable sound of a rifle cocking. He glances over his shoulder to see the most pissed-off woman he’s ever seen. She grins at him. 

“I’d like you to meet the wife, Ellen,” Patrick says. 

_Fuck._

Mickey’s doesn't want to get shot _again._ His ass had just recovered. So he lowers his .22 and gives Patrick a smile. Patrick just glares at him. 

“Haven’t I seen you before?”

Mickey shrugs. “Probably. I get around.”

“No, you were in the Gallagher house when I came to look through it this morning.” He laughs and nods at his wife, and she moves closer to Mickey. 

“Alright, Jesus,” he says to her, jumping away before she can press it into his back. “Point that thing somewhere else, we’re fucking going.” He slips his .22 back into his belt, throwing his hands up. He nods to Ronnie, who makes it to his feet and grabs his bat. 

Patricks salutes them as they make their way out the door, and his wife slams the door after them. 

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey drawls. “Guess that didn’t work, huh?”

“Not too much,” Ronnie says, grabbing a cigarette from his back pocket. “See you later.” And with that, they depart. 

Lip wants to know the details when he gets back to the Gallagher house, but sadly, there aren’t any details to share. 

“It didn’t work,” Mickey tells him. 

“What do you mean it didn’t work?” Lip presses.

“I mean his wife showed up with a rifle against my .22. So it didn’t work. And I don’t really want to commit murder right now, so it looks like we might be kicked to the curb.”

Lip’s jaw clenched. “Well, guess I’ll just have to find some other way,” he declares, then stomps off. Mickey rolls his eyes at his back. Lip’s obviously pissed that he didn’t manage to convince Patrick to stay the fuck away from their house, but what the fuck was he going to do? Get shot in the back? Fuck no.

Ian’s not pissed, just disappointed, when he tells him what happened, collapsing down on the bed next to him. Aileen’s on the other side of Ian, trying to flip through a baby picture book with her clumsy fingers. 

“Hey, it’s okay, we’ll figure something out,” Ian says, pressing their arms together. Mickey finds himself relaxing already. 

“Yeah, hopefully,” he responds. “Where the fuck are we gonna go if we lose the house, Ian?”

“We could go to your house,” Ian responds. “I know it’s shittier than this one, but at least it’s a house and not the streets.”

“Yeah,” Mickey sighs out. He lets Ian trace patterns on his upper arm. “I guess you’re right.”

***

Ian wakes up to the sound of heavy boots clunking on the stairs and people talking loudly to each other. He lets out a groan and feels Mickey shift in his arms, his head barely peeking out from underneath the blankets. 

“The fuck is that noise?” Mickey groans.

“Don’t know,” Ian replies. 

“Well, get whoever the fuck they are to shut up.”

Ian signs but detangles his arms from where they were wrapped around Mickey’s waist and slides out from underneath the warm blankets. 

It’s Patrick and his sons, walking up and down the stairs, carrying power tools. Lip’s standing outside his and Carl’s room, staring at them with his arms crossed. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Ian mumbles out, and Lip shakes his head. 

“Don’t,” he calls out as Desmond brushes past him. “I already tried to tell them to shut the fuck up.”

A power drill starts up in the bathroom, and then Ian can hear the unmistakable sound of Aileen crying in his bedroom. 

He lets out a groan. “Thanks a fucking lot!” he yells at Patrick when he comes up the stairs. “You’ve made my kid cry!”

Patrick just stares at him with raised eyebrows. “Not my problem.”

Ian wants to punch him in his fucking face. But he just grits his teeth and goes back into his and Mickey’s bedroom, slamming the door. 

“I should’a shot him,” Mickey grumbles out, trying to calm down Aileen. 

A constant hammering starts up during breakfast, and Ian thinks he’s going to go insane. 

“They’re removing the toilet,” Debbie complains, coming down from the upstairs. 

“Well, grab some buckets,” Lip snarks. 

“Guess it didn’t work out with your uncle,” she says to Mickey, who spreads his hands. 

Fiona opens her mouth to say something, then whirls around when Patrick and one of his sons come downstairs, carrying a toilet that they lower down in front of the couch. 

Jimmy comes down as well, dressed up, and says, “Bye honey, off to work.”

Fiona doesn't hear him. “Why is he leaving a toilet in our living room?” she hisses out. 

“Bye honey, I’m off to work,” Jimmy says louder, and Fiona glances back at him and waves him off. 

“We are so losing the house,” Debbie whines. 

“I told you,” Fiona tries to reassure her. “We are going to be-”

“Fine,” Debbie cuts her off. “I _know._ But will we be fine here or somewhere else?”

Aileen burbles then, and Ian turns to her, guiding the nipple of the bottle that’s fallen out of her mouth back into place. She wriggles and continues drinking. Ian can’t help but grin down at her and adjust the headband Mickey had put on her- a white one with a little flower off to the side.

Then Fiona tells them all to head out to school, and Ian picks her up with the bottle still in her mouth, placing her on his hip as he takes his and Mickey’s bowl to the sink. He grabs his lunch bag and they all make their way to the front door. 

Ian straps Aileen in her stroller, tickling her tummy to make her laugh. 

“I’ll be at the store right after school,” he tells Mickey, who nods. Ian reaches out and grabs Mickey’s hand, squeezing it once before letting go. “And really think about what I said about your house.”

Ian shivers as a cool breeze rips through his light sweater. It’s the last few days of August, and should be blistering hot, but the sky is cloudy and the temperature is in the mid 60s, as if Chicago’s preparing for winter already. It’s been like this through most of the summer, actually, a stark difference from last year, when Ian felt like he was going to sweat his skin off. 

He tugs his jacket tighter around himself and adjusts his backpack as he makes his way across the street to the Kash N’ Grab. The awning’s starting to fade and the letters are starting to disappear slowly, but it doesn’t matter, because everyone knows what store it is anyway- it’s been around for so long. 

Apparently it was owned by Kash’s father before him, and then by his father before him. It’s been around since before Ian was born, since before Frank was born. After Kash ran away, Linda bought the store and now for the first time, it’s owned by a white woman. 

Linda has plans to sell it. 

She told Ian and Mickey last Friday, before school started up again, that had a serious boyfriend (Ian had no idea that they were dating) and that they were talking about moving away from Chicago, and so she was looking into selling the shop. 

“It’s not like it’s racking in enough money anyway, and Aamir makes enough to support me and the boys twice over,” she had said, short and clipped. Apparently her boyfriend’s name is Aamir, and he’s a wealthy dentist who never married and had been the sore spot in his family because of. 

The little bell tinkles over the door as Ian steps into the store, welcoming the warmth and the sight of Aileen in her stroller behind the counter.

“Hey,” Mickey says from the back as he bends over, grabbing the stuffed bunny that had been resting on Aileen’s stomach and making it dance in front of her eyes. “Guess who just got out of the joint?”

“Hopefully not your dad,” Ian replies.

“Nah, that fucker’s got four more years,” Mickey says. “It’s Colin. Came around here at like noon for a pack of smokes.”

Aileen squeals and reaches out and grabs the bunny, trying to wrestle it from Ian.

“Wow, you’re getting strong,” he coos to her as he lets her rip the stuffed animal out of his hands. Immediately, she brings it to her mouth, sucking on one of the bunny’s ears. 

“He, uh, he brought all of our shit over to my house for us,” Mickey says then from the cooler as he stacks cartons of milk. 

Ian straightens up. “What?”

“Well, you said it yourself. If Patrick gets the house, which it looks like he probably will, then we’ll need a place to stay. So why not my house? I got Colin to take Aileen’s crib and dresser and all our clothes and shit like that to my old room. I know it’s not as nice as our bedroom in your house, but at least it’s not the side of the street, right?”

Ian can’t help but grin. “Really?”

Mickey shrugs. “Now you gonna help me with the low-fat milk or not, Gallagher?”

Colin’s not at the Milkovich house when Ian and Mickey go there after Mickey’s shift at the Kash N’ Grab ends. But sure enough, he had dumped all of their and Aileen’s stuff in Mickey’s old room. It’s just like last time they slept there, when Ian had been in the group home. 

Despite the numerous times Ian’s been in the Milkovich house, this time it feels different. His heart skips a beat when he realizes that it’s _empty,_ they’re _alone,_ and he doesn’t hesitate with pulling Mickey in for a kiss, his hand sliding down to cup at his boyfriend’s ass. 

“Ey,” Mickey says when they pull apart, shoving at his shoulder but with no real heat behind it. “Save it for when Aileen’s asleep.”

“Oh, I will,” Ian hums, plucking Aileen from her stroller. “Whaddya say we take a little walk, huh princess?” he says to her, then lowers her down to the floor on her feet.

He and Mickey have been trying to encourage her to start walking. She’s been getting pretty good at going from sitting down to kneeling, and she’s been crawling like crazy, getting into every possible thing she can. She’s stood a few times on her own as well, like now, as she grips the edge of the sofa and rocks back and forth a little. Ian takes his hands away from under her armpits, and she lets out a burble as she stands on her own. 

“You got it, princess!” he praises, and she tilts her head back to stare at him, grinning. 

Mickey chuckles, and grabs a bouncy ball from her stroller, placing it on the opposite side of the couch from her. “Think you can get this, sweetheart?” he says. 

“Ba!” she demands, pointing at it with a clumsy hand. 

“Yeah, it’s a ball,” Mickey responds, and Ian never fails to be amazed at how soft his voice can go when he’s talking to their daughter. “But you gotta come and get it.”

Aileen slaps her hands down on the couch a few times, frowning as she contemplates if the ball is worth moving on her own or not. Eventually, she makes up her mind and, grabbing onto the couch cushions for support, steps one foot in front of the other as she slowly inches her way over. 

“Hey!” Ian laughs. “Look at you!”

“Fuck, she’s getting so big, man,” Mickey breathes out, and Ian glances over at him, smiling. He reaches out and tugs Mickey close to him, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. 

“Mmm,” he responds, burying his nose in Mickey’s hair and breathing in. 

“Are you smelling me, Gallgaher?” Mickey asks, laughter in his voice. 

“I like how you smell,” Ian tells him, and he does. Mickey doesn’t wear cologne like most guys their age- he has a natural scent of linen, smoke, and mint soap, but Ian doesn't mind, not one bit. 

But his moment is ruined when Mickey lets out a “shit!” and then is lunging forward, grabbing the beer can from Aileen that she found in the couch cushions. 

Aileen’s bottom lip pokes out, sad that Mickey took her new toy away from her. She begins to whimper, so Ian shakes the ball at her, which she is thankfully distracted by. 

Ian and Mickey glance at each other. 

“We have to clean all this shit up,” Mickey says. 

They start in the living room, and Mickey grabs the trash can from the kitchen while Ian keeps an eye on Aileen. There’s more beer cans in the couch, and cigarette stubs behind the TV, and broken glass on the windowsill. 

“Jesus, how did you live in this house for 17 years?” Ian asks when he finds a mousetrap with a pile of mouse bones underneath one of the chairs in the living room. 

The dining room isn’t too bad- it’s more general clutter than life-threatening clutter. But the kitchen is horrendous. Ian doesn't think anybody’s wiped down a single counter since 2003. He tackles the counter tops while Mickey goes around the house wiping down the baseboards with a wet paper towel to get rid of the dust, Aileen balanced on one hip. 

The glass of one windowpane in the back door is cracked, and apparently nobody noticed, so Ian tapes some cardboard over it. He throws out rotten food in the fridge, and notices that there’s not a lot of edible stuff besides eggs, bread, and peanut butter. 

“Looks like we might still need to get food at my house,” he calls to Mickey, who’s sweeping in the living room now. 

“Good, because I don’t know what I’d do without Fiona’s cooking,” Mickey says back. 

They leave Mandy and Iggy’s rooms alone, and their own room thankfully isn’t too bad, they just need to sweep and dust a little, but the bathroom is a shitshow. 

It’s filled with mold and soap scum and some other things that Ian doesn't even want to know. Mickey makes him clean the toilet, and he nearly gags. 

“Can neither of your brothers aim?” he demands as his lunch threatens to come up again. 

But finally, they’ve made their way through the whole house (thankfully it’s not that big) and have gotten it to a state they’ve deemed baby-worthy. 

“What do you think, Aileen?” Mickey says, setting her down on the floor. She blinks up at him, then flips over onto her hands and knees and crawls over to the gun cabinet, reaching up to the knob. 

“Yeah, no,” Ian says, immediately scooping her up. “Think we might need to get an actual functioning lock for this, Mick.”

***

Fiona’s had a pretty fucking stressful day, worrying about her house getting taken away and the fact that the only job she can get is cleaning up other people’s shit. Literally. 

So the last thing she wants is to go back to her house which may not be her house by tomorrow to have V tell her that Carl tried to kill Patrick with rat posion. 

“Carl, what the fuck!” 

“It was only a little!” Carl protests, spreading his hands. “And Mickey threatening him did nothing, I was only trying to help! I don’t want us to be homeless!” 

“We’re not going to be homeless, okay?” Fiona snaps at him. “But you cannot feed our relatives poison! Jesus Christ, what were you thinking!”

Jimmy comes in then, back from his first day of work as a fucking _barista_ of all things, spewing some shit that Fiona doens’t care about right now. But he seems to sense the tense environment, and pauses, shoving his hands in his back pocket. “What’s up?”

Fiona sighs, letting her hands settle on her hips. “Tell him,” she says to Carl. 

“I killed Patrick,” Carl says. 

Jimmy frowns, glancing at Fiona. “What?”

“He put rat poison in his sandwich!” Debbie lets out, throwing up her hands. 

“Option 4: Kill Patrick. Why skip an option?” Carl fires back at her. 

“The whole life-in-prison thing, sweetheart,” V says. 

And this is just not what Fiona needs right now. She leans down to Carl’s level, trying to get him to understand. “I realize you’ve had sketchy parental role models, okay? But as your newly appointed guardian, can we agree that offing people is not cool? Can we get on the same page with that?”

Carl nods once. “Yeah.” Then he glances down, and Fiona hopes that’s a glimmer of guilt. 

“If this comes back to us, if we get charged with homicide, do you realize how serious that is?” Carl doesn't say anything, so she looks up at Jimmy, but he’s staring straight over her head. “What?” she demands. 

Jimmy points into the living room, where Liam is perched on the toilet that Patrick left there that morning, his pants down to his ankles. 

“Oh, Liam!” Debbie groans, rushing over and picking him up. She checks the toilet bowl. “Ugh, got him in time.”

“We need to come up with an explanation in case the cops tie this to us,” Fiona says, tugging on her hair. “Like… we have rats, and Carl threw poison everywhere.”

“That works,” V says. 

Carl frowns. “It does?” 

“Anyone who knows you knows it’s not far-fetched,” Fiona says to him. “Debbie, go get everyone so we can get our story straight.”

“Kay,” Debbie responds, and heads upstairs with Liam. 

Fiona sighs and leans against the counter. That’s one more thing she can check off from her strange list of shit she needs to fix. “I’m raising a sociopath,” she tells Jimmy, who’s still standing there. 

“I’m sure your cousin went to the hospital so he’ll probably live,” he says. Fiona glares at him. “Hopefully.”

***

When she stepped off the bus Thursday morning, she expected to just go to her first period class (biology) like normal. She did not expect to see Karen Jackson, calling her name. 

“I thought that was you!” Karen says after she turns around. 

“The fuck you doing here,” Mandy demands. 

“Re-enrolling,” Karen answers as if it’s the best thing ever. Mandy keeps walking. “So, I know you’re seeing Lip,” Karen calls after her. “But like I told him, I think it’s great.”

 _What?_ Mandy stops and rounds on her. She wants to break her fucking face in. “You talked to Lip?”

“Well, I came by last Tuesday to say hi,” Karen says. “I didn’t come inside. Lip didn’t want me inside because you know, he didn’t want to upset you.”

Mandy hates the way Karen cooed it out. She turns back around and continues walking. “Why would I be upset?”

“Oh. You wouldn’t. Forget it! I just meant I’m happy for you guys.”

Mandy speeds up, and thankfully, Karen falls behind. 

She clenches her fists. What the fuck is she playing at? Actually, Mandy knows exactly what she’s playing at. 

But Mandy’s not going to give Lip up that easily. 

She goes along with him to the court date later that day. Apparently Carl’s fed Patrick rat poison, so if he’s dead, that means the Gallaghers get to keep the house, but they all could end up going to prison. Ian and Mickey are there, with Aileen, and Mickey tells her they’ll be staying back at the Milkovich house if everything falls to shit. 

It looks like Mandy might be joining them, because Patrick shows up, still very much alive. 

He gets the house. 

As soon as they get back home, Mandy stomps up the stairs and throws herself onto Lip’s bed, pressing her back up against the wall and hugging her knees to her chest. 

Too much shit has been going on. Way too much. 

Lip chases after her, shutting the door behind him as he makes his way into the bedroom. 

“You knew Karen was in town, didn’t you,” Mandy blurts out. 

Lip takes off his jacket. “I heard that, yeah.”

 _Yeah, sure._ “You heard it,” she repeats. 

Lip presses his lips together and sniffs. “I saw her,” he says after a while, sitting down on the desk next to his bed. 

“Saw her or fucked her?”

He wipes a hand down his face. Mandy’s glad he’s uncomfortable. He doesn't respond. 

“If you got a problem with me being here, just say so,” she snaps out. “I don’t wanna be somewhere I’m not wanted, so man up. Tell me.”

“I have a problem with you being here,” Lip says all of a sudden, and Mandy can feel her heart sink. She didn’t think he really did. “You act like we had a conversation? Never happened. That I said it was okay for you to leave your stuff here, show up uninvited, do my laundry and act like my wife, but we- we never had that conversation, did we?”

Mandy can’t respond to that. No, they never did have that conversation, but why shouldn’t she not stay with him when her own house is cold and empty? When she’s cold and empty? 

Lip shrugs, and the next words he says breaks Mandy’s heart in two. “I never asked you to be here.”

Mandy flicks her eyebrow. Okay, fine. “I don’t fucking deserve this,” she says, and she gets up and walks right past him. 

***

Fiona’s in her room with the lights off because they lost their house today. 

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do. Two weeks as a guardian, and she’s already made her kids homeless. 

Debbie appears in her doorway, asking about the piece of shit house she and Lip had visited the other day. 

Fiona nods, and Debbie says, “That’s great,” but her voice cracks. 

“The renter says it’s ours if we want it,” Fiona says. 

“New school?” 

She nods again. “Yeah,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I never should have let this happen, I’m so sorry.” They’re homeless now. The Gallaghers are homeless. Debbie moves and sits down next to her.  
“I’m kinda sick of this place, anyway,” she says. “It’s nice to have a change.”

And Fiona can’t help the smile spreading across her face. God, Debbie is like a light in every single situation. She puts an arm around her sister and pulls her in close, pressing their faces together. 

It doesn't take long for their moment to be interrupted by Carl yelling up the stairs for her. Tony Markovich and another cop are standing in their living room, and Tony’s holding something in his hands. 

“What’s going on?”

“I got Patrick Gallagher outside with an eviction notice,” Tony says. 

“You’re throwing us out?” She takes the paper from him. “That’s supposed to take a couple of weeks!” 

“Normally,” he responds, glancing down at Carl, who’s draped himself across the couch. “But the guy seems like an asshole. I’ve been trying to chill him out, but he’s made a couple of accusations. Said you tried to kill him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Fiona insists. 

“There’s a toxicology report from the hospital. Says he won’t press charges if you move out tonight.”

 _What? No, no, no._ “He can’t be serious.”

“Seems to be serious,” Tony says, looking sorry. 

“But Patrick loves me,” Debbie speaks up. 

Tony sighs. “Yeah, well, is there a place you could go?”

“Tonight?” Fiona asks. “Tonight? No!” There’s the Milkovich house, where Ian and Mickey said they would be staying, but it’s nowhere near big enough for all the Gallaghers. 

“Patrick gave me candy,” Debbie continues. 

Fiona doesn't have time to deal with whatever she’s on about. “Debs, go get Lip and tell Ian, please,” she says, but Debbie ignores her. 

“And then he got in bed with me and touched me in my nice places.”

The whole room seems to freeze as everyone turns and stares at Debbie. 

“Wha-what was that?” Tony asks. 

“About candy or Patrick touching me?” Debbie asks, her voice and face completely innocent. 

“Patrick Gallagher,” Tony clarifies, and Debbie nods. Fiona holds the eviction notice up to her face so the cops won’t see her smiling. She did _not_ teach Debbie this. 

“And when you say _nice places,_ ” Tony asks, trailing off. 

Debbie grimaces, and glances down at herself, hugging her teal hoodie around her body. “Private places.”

Tony’s eyes grow wide and his mouth drops open and he takes the eviction notice from Fiona. Fiona turns so he can’t see her grinning at Debbie. 

Holy. Fuck. 

Debbie might be a fucking genius. 

Tony marches right outside and puts Patrick in handcuffs. 

“You’re shitting me?!” Patrick explodes. 

“Standard police procedure, sir,” Tony says, sounding like a robotic cop. “We’ll have to meet the sex crimes detectives at the station, unless-”

“Unless what?” Patrick interrupts. 

“The charges are dropped.”

Tony escorts Patrick to the police car, and Fiona glares at him. 

“$400 a month, no deposit,” she tells him. 

Patrick twists around to glare at Tony. “Are you in on this?” he demands. 

Tony shakes his head. “I’m not in on anything, sir. I am, however, going to make a radio call in the car.” He pats his arm and leaves him standing in front of Fiona and Debbie, cuffed. 

Fiona raises an eyebrow at him. 

“You can take your 400 and shove it up your ass!” he spits at her. 

“I remember your hands,” Debbie says then. “Touching me, and-”

“$1200!” Patrick tries to argue. 

“You said it was _our little secret_.” Patrick glares at Debbie. “I knew it was wrong.”

Patrick sputters at her, then shouts at Fiona, “$900! Final offer!” 

“500,” Fiona snaps. “No deposit. I need a 50 year lease. And I want that in writing.” 

Patrick growls, looking between the two of them. Then Debbie starts to go into detail about what his dick looked like, so he finally relents. 

When Jimmy comes back from his fancy dinner with his surgeon friends, Fiona presses a big kiss on his lips. 

“We didn’t lose the house!” she says, giddy. 

“I was molested, it all worked out,” Debbie adds in.

Jimmy frowns at her. “...What?”

“We can _stay_ ,” Fiona says, and yes they fucking can. No more fucking Patrick, this is _their_ house. 

***

It’s been two days, and everything’s absolutely perfect. Even though the Gallaghers have their house back, Ian and Mickey are still staying at the Milkovich house because it’s 10 times less crowded. Sure, Iggy and Colin and Mandy (after a falling out with Lip) are there, but Iggy often stays at his girlfriends house (apparently her name is Emily) and Colin’s normally gone for most of the day. It’s nice to have a whole house mostly to themselves. 

The only downside is that there’s basically no food in the house. There’s a couple of eggs and half a loaf of bread, so they eat breakfast and dinner at the Gallagher house. 

Ian can tell Fiona has mixed feelings about them leaving. When Ian had told her he and Mickey and Aileen would be staying at Mickey’s house, she had been supportive, because that was in the context of them getting kicked out of the Gallagher house, but after Patrick had been thrown in jail, she had asked them to return. 

Mickey had said “Fuck, no,” so that was that. 

But it’s not like they’ve moved overseas- just a few streets away. It’s a 6 minute brisk walk to the Gallagher house, so Ian and Mickey can return whenever they feel like it. Like to get their laundry done, because the Milkovich house doesn't have a working washing machine. 

Ian wakes up the morning of the third day, his arms wrapped around Mickey, who’s hair is tickling his nose. He untangles their limbs and rolls over in their new bed, which is honestly less bumpy then their one at the Gallagher house, and stretches, arching his back off his bed. He lets out a sigh and scrubs a hand down his face and can hear Mickey stirring behind him. 

“Morning,” he murmurs, and Mickey hums in response. 

Glancing down at his boyfriend, he finds that only the very top of Mickey’s head is peeking out from underneath the blankets, and he runs his fingers through his dark hair. Mickey huffs and tucks his head underneath the covers, clearly wanting to sleep more.

Ian chuckles and sits up, stretching and yawning. He tugs the blankets off of him and stands up, making his way over to Aileen’s crib.

She’s awake, but quiet, and grins up at him when she sees him. He picks her up by her armpits, settling her on his chest. 

“Let’s go wake Daddy, okay?” he coos at her, bringing her back over to their bed. He sits with his back against the headboard, placing her on his lap. “Mickeeey,” he says. “Someone wants to say good morning.”

Mickey can’t resist their daughter. He pokes his head out and shuffles until he’s sitting up like Ian, and makes grabby hands at Aileen. Ian passes their daughter over. 

“Is that Daddy?” he asks Aileen as she tips her head back in Mickey’s arms, reaching up at his face. 

“Da!” she squeaks, and Ian gasps. 

“What did she say?” 

“Da!” she says again, trying to grab onto Mickey’s chin. 

“Holy fuck,” Ian breathes out, letting out a laugh as Mickey bends down to stare at Aileen. 

“Daddy?” Mickey presses, and Aileen chirps, “Dada!” 

“Jesus Christ, Ian, she said my name,” Mickey says, turning to him, and Ian can’t believe it. Aileen just said her first word. Well granted, she probably doesn’t really know what it means, she’s just repeating what Ian and Mickey are saying, but still. 

“Yeah? Is that Daddy?” he coos. 

“Dada!” Aileen says to him. 

“No, I’m Papa,” Ian replies, chuckling. “Can you say Papa?”

“Dada!” 

“Hmm, no I think I’m her favorite dad. Sorry, Gallagher,” Mickey says then, picking Aileen up and holding her over his head. “You said my name! Yes you did, sweetheart!” 

Aileen squeals. “Da!” she declares, reaching down for Mickey. 

It’s then that the door to their bedroom bursts open, and their mood is killed. 

“The fuck do you want?” Mickey grumbles out, glaring at Iggy and lowering Aileen back on his lap.

Iggy glances between Ian and Mickey, then jerks a thumb over his shoulder. 

“Some detective guy is here. Dad broke out of jail a couple of days ago.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the home stretch! I'm planning on 4 more chapters in this series, so hang tight. Look for the next one on Friday!   
> What do ya'll think Terry will do? 😬 😬  
> Also, I just watch the first 2 episodes of Wandavision, and I 10/10 recommend.


	10. Frank the Plumber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian barks a laugh. “I’m not a faggot, Mick. I’m gay. Learn to say the fucking word, because you are too.” He jabs a finger at Mickey’s chest.  
> “Get the fuck off me!” Mickey snaps, shoving him back.   
> “Oh, you wanna fag-bash?” Ian taunts. “That make you feel like a man?”Mickey just stares at him, and Ian gestures to his own face. “Go on.” When Mickey doesn't do anything, he takes another step towards him. “Go ahead!” he yells. “Do it!”   
> 3.09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much just a reflection on Mickey's early life. 
> 
> Warning: mentions of rape and child abuse, and Terry being Terry.

Mickey doesn't hesitate. As soon as the police officer is gone, he starts packing. 

He shoves clothes and a toothbrush into his backpack and grabs Aileen’s diaper bag and loads that one up with her stuff. He stops by the fridge, grabbing water bottles and baby food, Ian and Iggy protesting the whole time. 

“You can’t do this!” Ian says, and Mickey rounds on him. 

“Don’t you fucking get it?!” he bursts out. “If my dad finds me, he will kill me and Aileen himself. I already almost lost her once to him, I can’t lose her again.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder. “Look, Mandy knows the place I’m going to, ask her if you so wish. But I need to leave for a few days.”

“Mickey-” Ian tries, but Mickey just takes Aileen from him, and Ian lets him. “Please.”

“You should go back to your own house. Lay low. Iggy, can you handle yourself if Terry comes here?”

Iggy nods, then goes to the gun cabinet. “You should take something, bro. Other than your Ruger.”

He throws Mickey an automatic, and Mickey tosses it in the diaper bag, hefting Aileen up higher on his hip. 

He turns to Ian, who’s staring at him, his face unreadable, then nods to Iggy, and then he’s out the door. 

He heads to a set of abandoned buildings between Indian Village and Kenwood. It’s right near Lake Michigan, so the air is cold and crisp, even though it’s early September. He was wise to wrap Aileen up in her coat. She fell asleep on the short walk from Canaryville, against Mickey’s chest as he had strapped her in the carrier, not wanting to take the bulky stroller. 

He’s been going here since he was 11 and Terry had started really taking him out on runs. It’s always helped him to clear his head to be somewhere where other people aren’t. The only person who knows where he goes is Mandy because he took her there one night shortly after their mom died and Terry was in a drunken rage and Mickey was scared for Mandy’s life. 

Just like he’s scared for Aileen’s now. 

He picks one of the buildings at random and climbs the creaking, breaking-down staircase. The building is stripped bare inside, with concrete floor, walls, and ceiling, and no glass in the windows. It’s not much, but it’s away from Terry. 

Mickey sets his bags down and grabs the blanket he had stuffed in his backpack and spreads it out on the floor, settling down on top of it. 

He has no idea how long he’ll need to stay here, but he’s prepared to wait for however long he has to. 

He strokes a hand over Aileen’s hair as he stares down at the top of her head. His phone’s blowing up in his pocket, and he knows it’s Ian, but he doesn't answer it because there’s nothing he could say that could convince Mickey to go back home. 

Ian doesn’t know Terry like Mickey knows him. 

When Mickey was 5 years old, he had walked in on his mom in the bathroom early in the morning, because the lock didn’t work, to find her with one foot braced on the toilet seat, reaching between her legs with some white material in her hand, blood trickling down her leg. She had yelled at him to get out, and he only realized later in life that she had been holding gauze and Terry had gone too rough. 

For his 7th birthday, Terry let him try his first taste of beer. Laura had tried to stop him, hanging off of his arm, but Terry had gone on and on about how beer made you into a man and didn’t Mickey want to be a man? Of course he did. His father was a man, and Mickey wanted to be just like his father. Terry had made him drink the whole bottle and he had blacked out and woke up, puking his guts out the next day, and had missed two days of school because of his headache. 

When he was 8, he used to feed the cat that lived in the alleyway behind their house scraps of chicken occasionally because it looked like a skeleton and he felt bad for it. Terry must’ve found out somehow, because the next day when Mickey stepped outside to feed the cat, he found its body on the side of the streets, mangled with the sheer amount of bullets Terry had put in it. 

He was 10 when he touched his first pair of tits. He was on a drug run with Terry and Iggy, who was 13, and they were staying at one of Terry’s friend’s houses, a run down thing even worse than their house. There was a woman there, who was skinny and had huge eyes and only wore a short, fluffy purple coat and panties despite it being January, and Terry called her over to where he was sitting with Mickey with a snap of his fingers. 

“You’re almost a man now,” he had said to Mickey. “It’s time you had your first woodie. Hell, when I was your age, I had already fucked my first girl.” 

He told her to take off her coat, and made Mickey place his hands on her chest. His hands barely covered her breasts, and he hated the feeling against his skin, but Terry roared in laughter behind him and said, “I would have him fuck you, Anita, but I’m afraid his dick would just slip out.” As soon as Terry said he could take his hands away, Mickey snatched them back to his own body. Her skin was cold. 

Mickey was 12 when he had his first handjob. For the past two years, Terry had been asking him if he’d lost his virginity yet nearly every day because “Milkovich men aren’t going to be pussy, faggot virgins, you hear me, boy? You’re gonna fuck a girl and you’re gonna like it. I won’t have a faggot in my house.” Mickey couldn’t lie and tell Terry he had already fucked his first girl, because he would know he was lying. He could always know. 

It was Angie Zago, in the boy’s locker room after school one day. She was a few months older than him, but then again nearly everyone in his grade was older than him, and was already 13. She took his dick out for him and started stroking him. “You’re not hard,” she observed. 

“Am I supposed to be?” Weren’t you only supposed to get hard when you were in a chick’s pussy? 

“Maybe if you close your eyes, that will help.”

It did. He could focus less on the fact that her giant tits were right in front of his face (he had always been rather short) and just reign his mind in on the sensation of a hand gripping his dick. He told Iggy later that day that he had gotten his first handjob, and Iggy had told Terry, and Terry had slapped Mickey for not going all the way. 

“Still a fucking virgin, boy, huh?” he had roared. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said you were a faggot, but Milkovich men fuck vaginas.”

He lost his virginity to Sally Harmon, who was 14 but still in 7th grade, a week later. He came embarrassingly fast and kept his eyes closed, just like Angie Zago had told him to. 

He had his first period when he was 13. His first thought was that it made him a fag. And he couldn’t be a fag. He was a Milkovich. Milkoviches weren’t fags. His mother told him to stuff his boxers with toilet paper and to never let anyone know, especially his father. 

Nearly a month later, he borrowed the ancient family laptop for school and Iggy had left his porn tab open. It was some guy with a huge dick railing a woman with an enormous rack. He could feel his dick getting hard- it had been doing that a lot lately- when he heard the over-the-top groans coming from the two. He looked at the girl, observed her tits and legs, but that didn’t get him nearly as excited. So he turned his attention to the guy, with his rippling chest and abs, and monster cock, and jerked himself off until he spilled messily into his hand. 

He nearly drank his weight in beer after that. 

After that, whenever Terry or Colin or Iggy said the word “faggot,” Mickey’s blood ran cold and his inside twisted up, afraid that they had found him out. That they had found out his secret. He started watching more porn, focusing on the guy instead of the girl, and the one time he was brave enough to watch gay porn, he came with only two jerks to his dick. 

He went to juvie for the first time when he was 13 ½, after being caught stealing, and was granted only 3 weeks, but got out in 2. Terry treated it like it was his birthday, slapping him on the back before he was taken away. Colin and Iggy had warned him about the power struggle in there- how you had to make people your bitch or else you’d end up somebody else’s, and Mickey was determined to be seen as the top dog in there. 

It wasn’t hard- he had his name as his reputation, and easily forced his cellmate to his knees and thrust his dick in his mouth. 

Nothing set him on fire quite like that. 

After juvie, he was like an addict. He needed to crave the touch of a guy again. But he knew he couldn’t. So he started getting reckless, watching gay porn on the regular, and even started shoving a finger up himself. He wanted it so badly. But he wasn’t a faggot. He _wasn’t_. The fact that he had a womb was enough already. So he laughed at Terry’s gay jokes and even beat up a pussy boy in Iggy’s class with him.

Then his mom died. 

A few months later, Mandy, who was 13, slept in his room with him for the first time. A week after that, he installed a lock on her door. She had the only lockable door in the house. 

Mickey could feel the need building and building and building. Porn wasn’t going to be able to sustain him anymore. He was up to getting 4 fingers in himself, with his cheek pressed against his pillow and his ass in the air, but he needed _more,_ needed something that would touch him _deeper._ He tried imagining what it would be like to have a big body against his back, pressing him into the mattress both with his chest and his dick, but that caused anxiety to squeeze at his stomach, so he stopped that and focused on the sensations on his dick and in his ass. 

He was 15 when he got his second blowjob by a guy. He had been fucking girls, mainly to keep up appearances, his eyes shut the entire time, willing his dick to stay hard, but he needed something _more._ Jack Kendziak was scrawny and nerdy and was picked on by everyone, so it didn’t take a lot of effort for Mickey to crowd him against the bathroom wall, a fist raised up to his face. Jack had flinched, his eyes shutting, and Mickey had offered a compromise- he wouldn’t beat up Jack if Jack gave him a blowjob. He agreed. 

Mickey did it three more times, and on the third time, Jack had let out a whine and had palmed himself over his jeans, so after Mickey finished on his chin, he tugged the kid to his feet and pulled out his own dick, jerking it until he came. 

The feeling of another guy’s cock in his hand haunted Mickey. It was the weight of it (Jack was well-endowed), the hot pulsing, the way Jack’s breath hitched as he came over his hand, that made him get on his bed, on his knees, and shove two fingers up his ass as soon as he had gotten home from school. But he wasn’t a faggot. He couldn't be. 

He fucked his first guy when he was 16. He slunk out near Boystown when Terry was in Michigan, smoking a joint behind a bar until he spied someone who looked like he was his age. Mickey bent him over a dumpster and pounded into him and came into the condom embarrassingly fast. And then that was it. Girls were ruined for him forever. 

Then Ian came along, and he was the first boy to ever stick it to him. But just because he liked it up the ass didn’t mean he was a faggot. He could kill Ian if he wanted to. Back then, at least- Ian had bulked up considerably. But he had been stupid and reckless and let Ian fuck him without a condom and now they had a daughter, and maybe Mickey was a faggot, but he wasn’t gay. 

Being gay meant you wore pink and gave fashion advice to chicks and whined over a huge dick, like he had seen in porn. And he wasn’t that. 

But if his dad ever found out he was a faggot, he would kick Mickey’s ass to the afterlife. He already almost did. 

So Mickey needs to stay away. He needs to protect Aileen and himself and Ian, because he knows that if Terry did find him and kill him, Ian would try to intervene, and then he would be dead, too. 

Aileen starts to wake then, squirming in her carrier, her sweet eyes blinking open. Mickey unstraps the carrier from his chest and gathers Aileen in his arms, tucking her head underneath his chin. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers to her. “Daddy’s got you.”

“Da!” she chirps for the second time that day, and Mickey’s heart warms, and he vows right then and there that he’s never going to let Terry near his daughter for as long as he lives. 

Mandy finds him after midday. 

“I think you’re being stupid,” she tells him, letting Aileen play with her hair as it forms a curtain in front of her face. 

“Fuck off, bitch,” Mickey tells her. “I’m doing what I gotta do to keep her safe.” He watches Aileen grab a hold of Mandy’s hand and chew on her fingers for a while before he says, “Can you tell Ian where to find me and not to worry?”

Mandy glances up at him, the corners of her lips flicking up. 

“The fuck is that look for.”

“Nothing,” she hums. “It’s just nice to see how much you love each other.”

Mickey scowls at her, but she promises to tell him. “He was nervous all throughout school today. He kept texting me to see if I heard anything from you.”

“He staying at his house?” Mickey asks, and Mandy nods, trying to detangle Aileen’s spitty hands from her hair. “Good. Hopefully Dad won’t think to look there.” 

Mandy leaves after a few, and Mickey’s alone again. Aileen settles down for a nap on Mickey’s chest, and he leans up against a concrete pillar. He eats a granola bar for dinner, then Aileen wakes up and he changes her diaper, tossing the old one on the landing of the stairs, far away from him to the smell won’t reach him, then feeds her a jar of mashed peas. 

It’s after dark when he hears footsteps on the stairs, and his heart jumps to his throat, and his fingers find his backpack strap, and he’s ready to get his gun and- 

“Mickey?”

It’s amazing how fast his body can relax as soon as he hears his boyfriend’s voice. 

“Jesus Christ, Ian,” he breathes out. “I was gonna shoot you.” 

Then Ian’s pulling him in for a hug, one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other one cradling Aileen’s head in between their bodies. 

“Mick, fuck, you’re alright. I was so worried, you wouldn’t text me back, _fuck_.”

Suddenly, Ian’s shoving at him and Mickey’s stumbling backwards. 

“Hey!” Mickey warns, cupping the back of Aileen’s head. 

“So that’s it?” Ian demands. “Some police officer shows up at our door to tell you your dad broke out and now you’re off the radar? What the fuck, Mickey!”

“You don’t know half of the shit my dad can do!” Mickey snaps back at him. He sets Aileen down on the blanket and turns back to face Ian. “I’m doing this for our own good!” 

“Our own _good_? Mickey, I nearly threw up today because I was so worried about you! I had no idea if Terry had found you, or if someone else did, or-”

“Yeah, well I’m still alive aren’t I?” Mickey throws back. “Who would have known what would happen if I stayed home, what would’ve happened to Aileen, you fucking faggot!” he adds because of the thoughts that had been swirling around in his head. 

Ian barks a laugh. “I’m not a faggot, Mick. I’m gay. Learn to say the fucking word, because you are too.” He jabs a finger at Mickey’s chest. 

_Gay. No. Milkoviches aren’t faggots. They aren’t gay._

“Get the fuck off me!” Mickey snaps, shoving him back. 

“Oh, you wanna fag-bash?” Ian taunts. “That make you feel like a man?”Mickey just stares at him, and Ian gestures to his own face. “Go on.” When Mickey doesn't do anything, he takes another step towards him. “Go ahead!” he yells. “Do it!” 

_He’s not gay, he’s not a faggot, he can’t be. He can’t._

Fear curls in Mickey’s stomach as he draws his fist back and punches Ian in the stomach. Ian exhales sharply and leans over on himself, dropping down to one knee from the pain. 

Then Aileen starts crying. 

“Fuck!” Mickey hisses out, grabbing her from the ground, pressing her against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers, but he doesn't know if he’s saying it to her or to Ian. He bounces her gently, shushing her, and her cries settle down some. 

She’s still sniffing as Ian crawls to his feet, still holding his ribs, as he moves up next to Mickey to check on her. Mickey lets him. 

Ian runs his fingers through Aileen’s short hair as she stares at the two of them. 

“I’m sorry,” Mickey whispers, his lips barely making a sound, but Ian hears him anyway. 

“It’s okay,” he responds, and then his arm is curling around Mickey’s waist, and he lets him. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean to push you.”

“Push me?” Mickey scoffs out, and Ian sighs.

“Can we not do this again? We just made Aileen cry.” Mickey snaps his mouth shut, and Ian continues. “I guess I meant to say, I didn’t want to make you say it before you’re ready, but it would mean a lot to me if you could.”

“What the fuck are you on right now, Gallagher?”

Ian clenches his jaw. “I _mean,_ I know you don’t think you’re gay, and I don’t want to _force_ you to say it, but it would mean the fucking world to me if you could, you know…”

 _Ian’s a soft fucking faggot,_ he realizes. He stares into Ian’s puppy dog eyes, and feels his insides twist. _Maybe I am, too_. 

“Fuck, you Gallagher,” he says, just to make sure he still knows that. Then, “I’m fucking gay. You happy now?”

The huge grin that takes over Ian’s face is worth it. 

“I am,” he says, and leans in to brush his nose along Mickey’s cheek. “Very.” 

***

Iggy’s mindlessly watching some old black-and-white TV show. He’s reclining against the couch cushions, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, his gun laying by his side. It’s silent and still in the house. Colin’s at work- his PO got him a job at a gas station, Mandy’s at a friend’s house, probably crying about Lip, and Mickey’s still away. He’s been away for the whole day, but Iggy’s not worried. He knows his brother can look after himself and his daughter. 

It’s ironic, he thinks, that he would be thinking about Mickey and his father would burst into the house. 

“Where the fuck is he?!” Terry demands, startling Iggy. He has a gun, pointing it wildly around the house. 

“Who?” Iggy asks. He knows who Terry is looking for, but he plays it dumb. He’s good at that. 

“That faggot!” Terry snaps, lowering his gun at Iggy, who throws his hands up. Terry wouldn’t be stupid enough to shoot him, right? 

“Who?” he tries again. 

Terry’s face grows red and Iggy swears he sees spit fly from his lips. “Mickey!” he screams. 

Iggy winces at the volume. “Mickey hasn’t been here for a while, Dad.”

“How long?!”

“Like, a few months. He left in like January. Took all his shit and left.”

Terry whips his head around the house, trying to search for Mickey. 

“Hey, weren’t you in prison?”

Terry sneers at Iggy. “Don’t be smart with me, boy! Where’s the redhead?”

“What redhead?” 

Terry stomps past Iggy and into the kitchen, swinging his gun around. “Gallagher!”

Iggy pretends to think. “Oh, you mean Mandy’s ex? I don’t know. He fucked off after he and Mandy broke up.”

Terry kicks open the door to Mandy’s room, checking in there. “No, he’s not Mandy’s ex, he’s a faggot, too!” he yells. 

Iggy takes a hit of his cigarette, eyeing his gun lying beside him. “Dad, are you okay? Look, we should get you somewhere the cops won’t find you.”

“Fuck them!” Terry roars, kicking open the door to Mickey’s room. Iggy thanks god that he and Ian had cleaned out the room and made it look like Colin had been sleeping in there. “I need to find Mickey and end that faggot’s life!”

“Well, I told you I haven’t seen him. He left during the night. He could be anywhere. Why do you need to find him so bad? If it’s true that he is a fucking faggot, he’s gone, and it’s not that worth it.” He gets up to throw his empty beer can away, his heart in this throat. He hopes Terry won’t be able to tell he’s lying right to his face- he’s always been a shitty liar. 

“He’s not just a faggot,” Terry growls. “He’s a pussy boy and takes it up the ass and got himself knocked up!” 

Iggy pretends to be surprised. “Are you on Carlos’s mix again, Dad? I’m sure Mickey’s not a carrier.”

Terry glares at him, and Iggy can see his brain working. He finally lowers his gun, and brings a hand up to rub at his jaw. 

“Hey, you want a beer?” Iggy asks him, making his way to the kitchen. He hopes Terry can’t hear his rabbiting heart beat. 

“No,” Terry grunts out. He glares at Iggy for a second more, then turns around and runs out the door. Iggy lets out a sigh and leans against the counter, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

Then he grabs his burner phone and makes a call. 

***

Ian doesn’t sleep at all that night. He tosses and turns in his too big bed, wanting to feel Mickey and Aileen in his arms. He had dropped off a sleeping bag, a pillow, and more blankets and food when he went to visit them. He hates how he can’t stay with them, but he understands. He knows what Terry Milkovich is like. 

As he lies awake on his, staring up at the patterns of moonlight on his ceiling, he can’t help but think of what would happen if Terry found Mickey and Aileen. Of their lifeless bodies on the floor of that abandoned building. His heart hammers fast in his chest, and he wants to throw up. 

Then he remembers Mickey’s words. 

_I’m fucking gay._

Ian rolls over, hugging the pillow that Mickey used to sleep on to his body. It still kind of smells like him. He knows it had taken a lot for Mickey to admit that. He knows Terry had beaten it into him from an early age that he can’t be gay. And he knows that even though he and Mickey are together, that even though he got pregnant and had a baby, he didn’t want to admit that outloud. 

But Ian needed Mickey to. 

He needed Mickey to know that his dad shouldn’t have that power over him anymore. That he’s free to be with Ian, free to have Aileen, free to be his true self. 

And Mickey had done it. Sure, it was just to Ian, but still, it’s progress. 

Ian can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, but he still doesn't fall asleep. 

He’s dead tired the next morning and can barely stay awake during biology. But then he gets a text from Iggy that reads “cops got terry” and maybe he fakes stomach pain to get sent home early. 

He sprints all the way to Indian Village and stumbles up the stairs to find Mickey changing Aileen’s diaper. 

“He’s arrested!” he blurts out, and Mickey whirls around, startled.

“Who is?”

“Terry! Iggy told me the cops got him. He’s gone, Mick!”

They head back to the Milkovich house, and Ian holds Aileen high over his head, making airplane noises as she squeals. Iggy’s there, and tells them he had been the one to call the cops. 

“Sorry for all those times I called you dickbreath,” Mickey says then, grinning at him. 

They retrieve Aileen’s stuff from the Gallagher house, which is empty because everyone’s at school and Fiona’s at her new office job at some cup place. 

“Jesus,” Ian puffs out as he shoves her crib into place. “How many times have we moved this shit between our houses?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Mickey snaps. “You gonna fuck me, or what?”

Ian does, as Mickey’s spread out across the bed, Ian drilling into him. 

“Fuck!” Mickey gasps at one particular thrust. “Shit, right fucking there!”

Ian pulls his head back to where he had been mouthing at the back of Mickey’s neck to sit on his heels, draggin Mickey’s ass back with him. He watches as his cock stretches out Mickey’s rim, and groans at the sight. 

“Fuck, look at that,” he pants out, digging his heels into the mattress. “You take me so good.”

Mickey moans and pushes his ass back to meet Ian’s thrust. “Fuck, harder,” he demands. Ian has no idea how Mickey wants him to go harder when he’s giving it his all right now, so he draws his hand back and slaps Mickey’s ass, hard. 

The sight of his ass literally shaking from the combined force of his hit and his thrusts is enough to send Ian over the edge suddenly, grabbing onto the backs of Mickey’s shoulder as he comes in the condom, letting out a cry. 

Mickey, who’s cock is pressed between his stomach and the bed, comes immediately after, gasps out and grabs at the sheets for purchase. 

Ian has the best nap of his life after that. 

September passes quickly, and Aileen learns how to say “Pa.” The first time she said it Ian nearly jumped out of his own skin with excitement 

“What did you say?” he cooed, and she bounced in his lap, reaching out with her pointer finger towards his nose. 

Ian and Mickey take her outside when the leaves start to fall, and she crawls around the backyard with determination, grabbing leaves in her fist and clapping when they make a crunching sound. 

Ian’s favorite moments are when he sets her down on the living room carpet and she crawls around for a bit, standing while balancing on furniture or reaching for toys Ian’s left out for her, then she’ll turn around, spy him, stick her bottom lip out, and lift her arms, and start whimpering until Ian picks her up and settles her on his hip. 

“I’ve got you,” he’ll say, his lips pressed into the side of her head. “I’m never letting you go.” He never will. 

***

It’s been a month since Mandy’s seen Lip. Sure, she’s passed him in the halls at school as he’s back there, finishing up a few classes that he didn’t manage to do last year when he got expelled, but she hasn't talked to him in a while. She doesn't want to. Her heart still clenches whenever she thinks about the words he said to her. 

But some things are unavoidable, like the fact that she left her favorite shirt at the Gallagher house, so on the morning of her niece’s 10-month birthday, she finds herself facing Lip again. 

He says they need to talk, and Mandy can’t deal with that right. 

“Why does Karen Jackson still have pictures of you on her Facebook page,” she demands, grabbing her clothes out of his dresser. Fucking Karen. This is all her fault, Mandy realizes. She and Lip were _fine_ until Karen showed up, then Lip started screaming at her about being too _clingy._ Not her fault Lip’s not used to loyal because Karen’s a whore. 

Lip insists he doesn’t know and doesn’t give a fuck, so Mandy pushes him against the wall to make him _know._ To make him feel. She grabs his face in both hands and makes him look at her. 

“She’s a skanky, manipulative, bitch,” she says. “You should unfriend her.”

Then she tells Lip about the appointment she made with the MIT recruiter back when they had still been “dating.” Lip’s confused, and she tells him she applied for colleges for him. He’s way too smart to be stuck in the fucking Southside for the rest of his life. 

Mandy’s always dreamed out getting out, but she’s stupid and a slut, so why shouldn’t she not help someone else? 

Lip gets pissed. Mandy doesn't understand why. She applied for schools when he didn’t want to, what was wrong with that? And she put so much fucking effort into it, he could be the least bit thankful! 

“You’re not my mother, you’re not in charge of who I talk to, who has a picture of me on Facebook, and you’re sure as _shit_ not in charge of if I go to college?” Lip screams at her in the middle of the high school hallway, then storms away. 

Mandy turns to Ian who had been a bystander in their fight. “Think he’s right?” she asks, and he spreads his hands hopelessly. “Men are never right. That’s why women were invented- to think for you assholes.”

So Mandy has no faith for Lip’s interview. He clearly doesn't want to go to college and doesn’t appreciate her efforts, so she doesn't let it bother her. She tries, anyway. 

But her head can’t seem to let it go so she finds herself at the Gallagher house after school. He claims she didn’t need to do it, that he doesn’t care, and she snaps. 

“Do you wanna waste your life laying around in this shithole neighborhood forever? Do you have any idea how much stuff I had to steal and sell to pay those application fees? It was a _huge_ pain in the ass, and I did it for you, so you could be a little bit nicer about it! You know, you might even want to say thank you!” 

He does say thank you, as he’s fucking into her, first on the wall of his new bedroom (which had previously been Fiona’s), then on Fiona’s new bed (which had previously been Ian and Mickey’s) after he fucking picked her up, still drilling up into her, crossed the hall, and tossed her on top of the sheets. 

She accepts his apology.

She moves back into the Gallagher house, and takes up residence in Lip’s new room. Fionan glares at her, but fuck her. She doesn’t care. 

Mandy’s on Lip’s bed the next day, lighting up a cigarette, when her phone rings. She doesn’t recognize the number, but answers it anyway. “Who’s this?”

“Hey, Mandy, it’s Karen Jackson. Just wanted to call and say thank you for applying to colleges for Lip.”

“What?”

“My mom kinda sucks these days so it’ll be awesome to have somewhere new to go, and all I have to do is poke one hole in a condom, and he’ll do whatever I say forever! I mean we learned that from last time.”

Mandy doesn’t think she’s ever hated anyone as much as she hates Karen Jackson right now. She’s practically shaking with rage as she growls out, “Fuck you.” 

“Oh, you mean like all 3 of us?” Karen sighs. “Yeah, I could be down for that. Do you want me to ask Lip next time we do it?”

Mandy hangs up. 

There’s no way Lip is fucking her again. No fucking way. It’s been only a day since him and Mandy have made up. Unless… when he went over to her house to break it off with her, he ended up fucking her. Mandy clenches her fist. But it’s not Lip’s fault. It’s Karen’s fault. 

Fucking evil, lying, manipulative, little bitch. 

She _could_ get her brothers to do something about her, but they would take too long to convince. No, she needs to do this on her own. 

So that night, she takes Lip’s phone and takes Karen, asking to meet at the park. Then she takes her car and when Karen’s crossing the street, she rams her head-on. 

Karen’s body flies up and over the windshield, cracking it, then she rolls over the hood, and Mandy drives away, not looking back once. 

***

She gives her first blowjob when she is 12, and she gets 3 Rubles for it. The man tells her father she needs to work on her technique, and he grips her by her hair all the way home. She barely made enough money for a loaf of bread. 

She’s the oldest of 5, with three younger brothers and a younger sister, and after her mom passed away, the job of prostitution falls on her. She’s 13 and gets 5 rubles with each hand job she does and 6 with each blowjob. But it’s not enough, it’s never enough, and now her brother Pavel has fallen sick, and her father needs the money desperately. So he sells her. 

She says good-bye to Vadik and Irina and Casimir and Pavel, and then she leaves. She’s 14, and she stays in a cheap hotel with girls a few years older than herself. She’s hungry and tired all the time, but at least her family will be fed. 

She is sold to America when she’s 17. Her new owner is named Sasha and is even stricter than her one in Russia. She gets a fake green card, and her age is pushed up a few years.

Svetlana excels in America. She learns the language quickly, and she can read people easily. Mainly men. Men are stupid and slow and have their emotions written across their faces. At least women know how to hide. She knows how to smile up at a man and make him feel special to leave her a few extra quarters. She knows how to sound when she jerks men off to make them come back again. 

Sasha calls her her most valuable worker. 

She’s 19 when she gets stationed at a spa. She earns a little bit more money now, and moves into an apartment with another girl named Nika. The landlord gives them reduced rates for blowjobs once a week. She and Nika grow close, and Svetlana learns why she’s never liked men and their penises. 

And then she meets Terry Milkovich. 

Terry Milkovich is stupid and easy to manipulate, and maybe that’s why she likes him so much. He keeps coming back to the spa again and again and after she complains about being cold, he buys her a fur jacket. He probably stole it, but at least she’s warm now. 

She exploits that. She asks for smokes, for weed, for clothes, all of which he gets her. Then he takes her to a motel one night and she lets him penetrate her for extra money. She hates it, but gasps into his ear like she’s been taught, and he pays her well for it. They start to spend more and more nights together, and one night she gets him drunk and he tells her where he hides extra money in the basement of his house. 

She finds his house and watches until no one’s in it, then sneaks into the basement and steals his cash. She gets herself and Nika a better apartment, one that they can afford without having to give blowjobs. 

She’s 21 when she learns that Terry Milkovich got himself arrested. But no matter, she thinks. She visits him in jail and fawns over him, and gets him to supply her with a check each month. He’s too stupid. A year later, she learns that Terry Milkovich broke out of prison, and the first thing she does is head to their usual motel and, sure enough, he’s there, lurking in the bushes. 

She buys them a room for the night and Terry starts to talk about his youngest son, about the rumors he heard about him in prison, the rumor that says his son had a child with another boy. He talks about how he wants to kill his son, then offers her a drink. She takes it from him, and maybe she’s stupid now, too. 

She falls asleep and when she wakes up the next morning, she’s sore and torn and Terry Milkovich is gone. 

He is back in jail a week later, and Svetlana is back at work, putting Terry Milkovich behind her. She cuts ties with him, because she should never have gotten close in the first place. Then a month later, her period is late, and she knows what happened. 

It’s his child, of course, she’s always used condoms with anyone else, and she remembers the motel and waking up sore the next morning. 

But she doesn’t have enough money for the abortion, and with no longer seeing Terry, she had to give up the apartment and she’s living under a bridge now, so she figures she’ll have to sell the child after it’s born. But no one would want to buy the baby of a homeless whore. And if immigration comes, she could be in serious shit. So she needs a house and a husband. 

Terry was stupid and easy to manipulate, and she hopes his sons are, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🤭 🤭 🤭
> 
> Here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/blazingskies29)!  
> Look for the next chapter on Monday/Tuesday!


	11. Civil Wrongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s ‘cause you’re boring, Firecrotch,” he says. “I’m the fun dad.”  
> “Bullshit,” Ian replies, getting up and standing behind Mickey, staring down at their daughter. “I’m a million times more fun than you.”  
> “A million times, huh?” Mickey says, flicking his eyebrows up.   
> “Uh-huh,” he says, leaning down to slot their lips together.   
> 3.10

If you were to ask Mickey what the hardest part of parenting an infant is, he would say bathing. Not the crying, or the diapers, or the no sleep. No, bathing is the hardest. 

First off, it’s scary as shit. Aileen is slippery like an eel and every second she’s in the stained Milkovich bathtub is one second she could be banging her chin against the side of the tub. Mickey thinks his heart beats faster than it ever has when they’re bathing her. 

Secondly, Aileen hates water. She always has. The first time she got an actual bath- not a sponge bath- she immediately started shrieking and crying, and didn’t stop until nearly 30 minutes after Ian had lifted her out of the water. It had taken her nearly 10 baths after that to finally get used to the water, but she stills whimpers and stares up at them with big, pleading eyes, and it breaks Mickey’s heart. 

Or she just gets pissed. 

Ian had lowered her into the water, and as he had taken his hands away, she had let out an “uh!” and slapped the water with the most grumpy look Mickey had ever seen on a baby’s face. 

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckles, grabbing the baby shampoo. “Punching it ain’t gonna work, sweetheart.” He’s pretty sure that if she knew how to cross her arms, she’d be doing it right now. 

She glares at Ian as he approaches her with a washcloth and starts to gently wash her chest, going in slow circles. 

“I think she’s trying to shoot daggers at me,” Ian observes, moving the cloth over her shoulders. 

Mickey grabs a rubber ducky and places it in the water next to Aileen, and she grabs it, then shoves the head viciously in her mouth. 

“Jesus, no baby should look this pissed while playing with a rubber ducky,” Mickey says, passing Ian the shampoo. “Hey, lighten the fuck up.” He gently taps on Aileen’s foot under the water, but lets Ian tilt her head back so the shampoo won’t get in her eyes. 

“Don’t swear at our daughter,” he says, and Mickey shrugs. 

“Not like she knows what it means.”

A couple more minutes, and Aileen starts to cry, uncomfortable with being left in the bathtub for so long. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ian coos as he lifts her out, wrapping her in a towel. He rubs it over her, drying to dry her off quickly so she doesn’t get cold. 

Mickey drains the tub, then takes Aileen from Ian. “Yeah, you don’t like water, do you?” he says to her. “Just like your daddy.”

“Dada,” she chirps, gripping onto his shirt. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” He pushes the towel off her head so he can run his fingers through her baby-soft hair. 

“You look really good with her,” Ian hums, coming up behind Mickey and wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“I should, seeing as I’m her dad,” Mickey retorts. 

“She still has blue eyes,” Ian observes. 

“Maybe the next one will have your eyes,” Mickey says without thinking, and Ian freezes behind him. 

“What?”

Mickey mentally curses himself. He’s hasn’t been thinking about it a lot, but it’s come up a few times, late at night, when he can’t fall asleep so he watches Ian sleep, studies the rise and fall of his chest, his long lashes brushing against his cheek, and thinks, _This is it for me._

Before he got pregnant, he’d run a lot of fantasies through his head about how his life would turn out. He’d die in a car crash, or sneak off to Mexico and join a gang, or go back to high school and become a lawyer, or he’d marry some bitch and live in an unhappy marriage the rest of his life. 

But then he’d look at Ian and Aileen, and realize that this is the life he wants- with his boyfriend and their daughter, living in their own house (except not really because Colin and Iggy live there, too). And yeah, maybe he’d like another kid. Maybe one with Ian’s emerald green eyes. 

“Well, obviously not right now,” Mickey stammers, trying to explain himself. “And not in the near future. Maybe in like a couple of years, when Aileen’s older and we’re richer, and have a better place, and my dad’s-”

Ian shuts him up with a kiss that makes fireworks explode behind his eyes and his toes curl in his socks. 

“I’d like that, too,” Ian says when he pulls away, and Mickey’s pretty sure he’s grinning like an idiot. 

They get Aileen dried off and change her into her outfit for the day, then head into the kitchen for breakfast. They’ve started getting groceries on a regular basis, as Iggy’s job dealing has taken off, and Colin’s actually started chipping in with his parole job at a gas station, and don’t have to make a trip to the Gallagher house just to eat anymore. 

Mickey sets Aileen down in her high chair by the table, and spies a shitton of mail on top of it. 

“What’s this shit?” he asks Colin, who’s playing some game on his phone. His brother glances at it and shrugs. “Yeah, real helpful,” Mickey mutters. He picks up the envelope on top and finds it’s from the electric company. 

“Shit, bills are due,” he says. “Iggy, do you usually pay the bills?”

Iggy, who’s making eggs at the stove, answers, “No.”

“Well then who usually does?”

Iggy shrugs. “Mandy, but she’s been staying with Lip.”

“So you mean to tell me you haven’t been paying the bills?”

Iggy thinks for a second. “Well, not last month’s.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Jesus christ, it’s a miracle we still have hot water,” he groans out. “Fine, I’ll fucking pay them, then. Where’s the money?”

“Under my mattress,” Colin responds, and Mickey turns to gape at him. 

“You keep our money under your mattress? For fuck’s sake, that’s like the first place robbers look! Jesus, how have you managed to stay alive this long?”

Colin shrugs, obviously unbothered. Sure enough, there’s an envelope stuffed underneath his mattress that’s full of everyone’s savings. There’s nearly $7,000, plus checks, some from his and Ian’s jobs at the Kash N’ Grab that they would give to Iggy. 

“Can you get money orders after school today?” he asks Ian, who’s feeding Aileen her breakfast, and tosses the envelope down in front of him. 

Ian pauses. “Uh… what?”

“Money orders? Like at a convenience store? The Kash N’ Grab doesn’t sell them, so look somewhere else.” 

“Yeah, but what are they?”

Sometimes Mickey is surprised at how dumb other people are. But he painstakingly explains to Ian how to buy them and which bills go where and to fill them out with Terry’s name while feeding Aileen some eggs off his plate. 

“You guys act like a married couple already,” Colin says, and Mickey gives him the finger.

***

2 and a half weeks. 

That’s how long Karen’s been in a coma for. 

Lip thought he had gotten over her. He thought that he had moved on, that he only cared about Mandy now. But Karen’s broken and bleeding face pops into his brain during nights, and he can’t even get it up with Mandy anymore. He was fine until Karen showed up again, until she smiled at him with soft eyes, until he finally snapped and screamed at Mandy. 

When he tells Mandy he can’t stop thinking about Karen, she gets pissed. Sits up from where she had been laying down after he failed to come, yet again, and starts tugging on her jeans. 

“Hey, wait a minute, I can focus,” he tries, because he misses her warmth, and wraps his arms around his waist, but she shrugs him off. 

“I’m late for school. But we can give each other head in the shed behind the football field at lunch.”

“Well, it is hard to turn down head in the shed,” he says, taking the pair of boxers she tosses his way. “But, uh, I might not make it there for lunch. I gotta stop by the hospital. I wanna see if Karen’s okay.”

Mandy stares at him blankly. “She’s in a coma,” she says.

Lip grabs a shirt and tugs it over his head. “No, I know, I just wanna show some support.” He tugs the blankets off of him and gets to his feet. 

“She won’t even know if you’re there,” Mandy counters, and this is why Lip was pissed at her. Because she has to question everything he does. 

“Still, it’s the right thing to do,” he calls over his shoulder as he makes his way to the bathroom. 

“You want me to come with?” Mandy asks, and he thinks it’ll just be 10 times worse if she’s there. 

“Nah, I’m cool.”

After they shower and dress, Mandy makes it downstairs before him, while he’s still fixing his hair. When he finally makes his way into the kitchen, she’s already by the door. She shoots him and glare and leaves, slamming the door behind her. 

“What’s all that about?” he asks Debbie, who’s spooning soup into a thermos. 

“You. Karen. The unfathomable male soul,” Debbie responds. 

“Why aren’t you in school?” he asks her, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. 

“Skipping,” she says simply. 

“Debs, we need at least one person in this family to not turn cynical, and my money’s been on you,” he says as he pours himself coffee. 

“I made soup for Sheila.”

“That’s nice. I’m gonna drop by the hospital, I’ll take it for you.” He grabs the thermos, but she tries to snatch it back. 

“And the credit for doing something nice, when you actually did nothing,” she snaps, trying to grab it from him again, but he holds it out of her reach, a smile playing at his lips. 

“Well, to be fair, at that point I would’ve carried it all over there, so.”

She glares at him, then turns back to stirring the soup. “You’re taking Mandy for granted.”

Great. How many people is Mandy complaining to about him? First Ian, now Debbie? “Why? What’d she tell you?”

Debbie rolls her eyes and turns to him. “She’s kind, she’s devoted, she’s not someone whose feelings you can ignore. So stop being a dope, and put her feelings first every once in a while.” She grabs the thermos of soup again and stalks off. 

Lip takes another sip of his coffee. 

When he and Debbie find Karen’s hospital room, she’s lying in the bed, with dozens of tubes sticking out of her nose, mouth, and arms. Her right arm and leg are in casts, and her face is scratched up and she looks nearly dead. The steady sound of beeping fills Lip’s ears, matching his heartbeat. 

No, god no. 

Whatever the fuck happened to wild Karen Jackson, who used to give blowjobs to him underneath her kitchen table? They used to run from the cops together, smoke a joint on the roof of her house together, watching the sun go down as she rests her head on his shoulder. They used to go to old parks and scream old rock songs at the top of their lungs together. Their sex was wild and crazy, just like they were. 

She was his first girlfriend, and now she’s near dead. 

Lip feels his throat close up and tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he wishes he were in a coma, too. At least he wouldn’t have to see her like this. 

***

What sparks it is a booth Ian sees in the entry hall of the high school. There’s a huge banner over it, with the words JOIN THE US MILITARY AND MAKE SOMETHING OF YOURSELF in bright red that catches his attention and holds it throughout the entire day. 

He’s antsy through all of his classes, wanting to go back there and talk to the guy who had been standing by the booth. In his last class, history, his leg won’t stop bouncing with excitement and Mandy notices, leaning over. 

“What the fuck has gotten you so riled up? Did my brother promise to suck your dick after school or something?”

Ian chuckles. “Nah, there’s some military guy here. I wanna talk to him.”

Mandy shoots him a look. “Military? I thought you gave up on West Point.”

“I did,” he replies. “But that doesn’t mean I still can’t get into the military.”

Mr. Lane tells them then to shut up and pay attention to the slideshow he’s presenting about the Panama Canal. 

As soon as the bell rings, Ian grabs his bag and jumps out of his seat, throwing a quick “Later!” to Mandy over his shoulder, and books it down the hall. Thankfully, the booth and the guy are still there, standing in the exact same position- legs slightly spread, hands clasped behind his back. 

Ian skids to a stop in front of him, breathless, and tries to compose himself. The man glances down at him and offers him a sharp nod. 

“You thinking about signing up?”

“Yes,” Ian responds. 

“What’s your name, soldier?”

“Gallagher, cadet corporal, ROTC,” Ian rattles off, standing up straight. 

The man raises his eyebrows, impressed, and he holds out a hand to shake. “Major George Heffler,” he says when Ian grasps his hand. His grip is strong. “What branch are you interested in, Gallagher?”

“Uh… army,” Ian says. Heffler turns and walks behind the booth, and Ian follows him. 

“Are you 18 yet?”

“No, I’ll be 18 in May, but I’m graduating in December.”

Heffler pauses. “You gotta be 18 to enlist,” he says. “Doesn’t matter when you graduate.”

Ian bits the inside of his cheek. This is what he feared. He’s been thinking a lot about his life after high school. He’s not all that smart, he doesn’t really have a lot of skills, like gardening or building shit, and he doesn’t want to settle himself down for a life of working at places like the Kash N’ Grab. He wants to do something exciting, he wants to _be_ something exciting. 

And knowing that he could graduate high school early has just further vaulted his dreams. He’s so close to freedom, to doing whatever he wants, he can nearly taste it. 

“Right, okay,” he says then, because it’s no use arguing. He won’t be 18 for another 7 months. 

But Heffler hands him a sheet anyway that lists everything he needs to enlist. “It’s 4 years, son,” he says. “You sure you want to go right out of high school?”

Ian takes the piece of paper from him. “No,” he answers honestly. “I have a daughter.”

“Well, good thing for you that we have a program for situations like these,” Heffler says, and hands him another piece of paper. “6 years of active duty with a year and a half of reserve every 2 years. You’ll still be serving, but you’ll be able to be home more.”

Ian glances down at the paper. _Active/Reserve Program_ it reads at the top. 

“How old is your daughter?” Heffler asks after a while. Ian glances up at him. He’s smiling. 

“She’s turning one in a month,” he replies. 

Heffler nods, then gestures to the papers he gave him. “Think about it. You’ll still serve, but be able to watch your daughter grow up.”

Mickey’s still at work by the time Ian gets home, and Iggy’s been appointed to watch Aileen. She’s in his lap, chewing on her teether (more of her top teeth have started to grow in) while he watches some sort of bloody war film. 

“You’re gonna give her PTSD at 10 months,” he tells him, picking her up by his armpits and cuddling her to his chest. 

Iggy waves him off. “I made pizza rolls,” he says, and Ian grabs one from the pan. 

He dumps his backpack on the floor of his bedroom and places Aileen on their bed. She drops her teether and immediately crawls up towards the pillows, but then gets tangled in the sheets and face-plants. 

Ian chuckles and gently sits her right-side up, and she coos and reaches out for one of their pillows, trying to grab it with her fingers. 

Ian digs around in his backpack and finds the papers Heffler had left him. He spreads them out on his bed and sits down next to them, running a hand through his hair. 

Ever since he was a little kid, he’s always wanted to be in the army. He binged all the war DVDs he could find in the public library, and when he had watched them all, he stole some from stores. He used to pretend he was a commanding officer and force Lip to be an enemy soldier in their backyard. Then he joined ROTC, and the wanting was even greater. Then came Aileen. 

Not that she’s a bad thing, Jesus, fuck, no, not when she’s got the corner of his pillow shoved in her mouth and she’s grinning at him around the fabric, but she’s put a halt in his plans to go to West Point. He doesn't have the money now and he needs to be working to support her. 

But that doesn’t mean he still doesn't’ have the burning desire to go to the army. 

He can prove himself. 

To his country, to his daughter, to Mickey. He won’t just be another poor, teenage dad from the Southside- he could be an officer, maybe even a war hero! He’d be able to see the world, and the salary isn’t too bad, either. Yes, he would miss Aileen and Mickey desperately, but the program Heffler told him about is a possibility. 

He scoops Aileen up when she starts crawling over to the edge of the bed and drags her into his lap. She tilts her head back and raises her arms, grabbing onto his chin. 

“Would you like that, princess?” he asks her. “I could join the army, make you proud of me.” God he wants it so bad, he _aches._ He doesn’t want his daughter to, in like 7 years from now, look at him and know that he’s nothing but a minimum-wage worker at some warehouse. He wants her to look at him and feel proud that he’s defending his country, that he’s defending her. 

He does his math homework half-heartedly while he waits for Mickey to come home. Finally, though, his boyfriend slips into their room and makes a beeline to Aileen, who Ian had moved to her crib after she threatened to take a tumble off the side of their bed one too many times. 

He picks her up and babbles at her, and she squeals, wriggling with excitement. 

“Wow, she wasn’t nearly as happy to see me as she is you,” Ian says, grinning at his family. Mickey turns towards him and raises an eyebrow. 

“It’s ‘cause you’re boring, Firecrotch,” he says. “I’m the fun dad.”

“Bullshit,” Ian replies, getting up and standing behind Mickey, staring down at their daughter. “I’m a million times more fun than you.”

“A million times, huh?” Mickey says, flicking his eyebrows up. 

“Uh-huh,” he says, leaning down to slot their lips together. 

They kiss for about 5 seconds before Aileen whines and Ian can feel her fingers on his face, trying to pry them apart. They break apart, and Ian laughs. 

“You don’t like it when we kiss, do you?” he coos, nuzzling her cheek. She giggles. 

“It’s because we’re not kissing her. That right, Aileen?” Mickey says, and Aileen blinks at him. 

“Hey, I, uh, got something at school today,” Ian says when Mickey turns his back to him to place Aileen back in her crib. 

“Congrats” says Mickey, handing Aileen her stuffed bunny. 

"Yeah, there was a military booth at school. They, uh, usually have them during the school year.”

“Okay?” Mickey says, straightening up and turning around, raising an eyebrow at him. “And?”

Ian shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about enlisting.”

“What, to the army?” Ian nods. “Yeah, I don’t think so. You’re not gonna get blown up and leave me taking care of Aileen all by myself.”

Ian sighs. “Mick, I’m not gonna get blown up. I think it’s a good option for us, you know? I’ll make more money than if I were to just get a job working at some grocery store, and there’s a program I can go into where I won’t be away for so long.”

Mickey glares at him. “What program?”

“Active duty for 6 years with 1 and a half years of reserve every 2 years.”

“That’s no better than 4 years, Gallagher, you’d still be away for 2 years. Jesus christ, you’d miss so much of Aileen's life,” Mickey snaps, guestering to their daughter behind him. 

“I know, I know,” Ian says, trying to calm him down before he gets really pissed. “But we’d get a week off in December, and one in June, and I’d be able to FaceTime and write letters and call and all that shit. Mick, you need to let me do this, okay? If I stay here, I won’t amount to much. But this way I’ll be able to make more money, provide more for Aileen.” His throat closes off at the end, and he swallows hard. 

“What the fuck about me?” Mickey bursts out. “I just gotta be a fucking army wife, worrying about if you’ll get blown up tomorrow in like fucking Iraq?”

“Okay, the chances of me actually going overseas-”

“Fuck you!” Mickey interrupts. “You just wanna get away from us!”

Ian blinks. “How can you say that? I don’t wanna be away from either of you for any longer than I have to. I love you, Mick. Both of you. This is going to pay off, long-term. It will.”

Mickey just glares at him. Eventually, he says, “You won’t even be 18 for a while.”

“I know,” Ian says. “I’ve been thinking about that. I could get emancipated.” When Mickey gives him a blank look, he continues. “Like legally become an adult while still being underage?”

“I know what it fucking means, dumbass, how the fuck are you gonna do that?”

“We could just go to court with Fiona, since she’s my guardian. And I’m sure she’d say yes, because it’s not like I’m a little kid anymore. She knows I can take care of myself. I mean I’m already living apart from her.”

Mickey doesn't look convinced. He rubs at his left eyebrow, a nervous tick, and lets out a long sigh. Ian takes a step forward and grabs onto his hand, intertwining their fingers. 

“I love you,” he says, trying to make Mickey meet his gaze. “And I’m not going to be leaving you- I’m just going to the army. I’ll write you every fucking day.”

Mickey finally glances up at him, and they lock eyes. “Yeah, you fucking better, Gallagher,” he says, but his voice is soft. “I expect a whole fucking novel every morning.”

Ian can’t help the grin that spreads across his face and he pulls his boyfriend in for a hug, wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for letting me do this,” he says quietly after a while. “It really means a lot.”

Mickey slides his hands up Ian’s back, gripping onto the backs of his shoulders. “I know, Ian,” he replies. 

Then Aileen starts burbling, jealous of the attention they’re giving each other, so they reluctantly break apart. 

***

Mandy finds him after school the next day, in the van out back, just after he had finished wiping his tears. 

“You okay?” she asks him, a hand on the rolled down window. 

“Yeah,” he lies, taking his cigarette out of his mouth. 

“You weren’t at school today.”

“No, I, uh, I didn’t make it.”

She glances down. “Karen?”

“She’s in pretty bad shape.”

“Are you going over there later tonight?” she asks. 

“I’m not really sure.” Seeing her yesterday had shaken him up. 

“You want me to come over later?” Mandy asks, shrugging. “I missed you last night.”

He stares at her. This is Mandy. His girlfriend. So he nods, but she just stares at him more, and he can feel her icy blue gaze drilling directly into his. “Yes, please,” he says.

She steps up then, and presses a soft kiss to his lips. “Okay, I’ll see you later,” she says when she pulls back, smiling at him. He watches her walk away. 

He does go and see Karen later. 

Sheila and Jody are there, singing “Just the Way You Are,” complete with Jody banging on a drum. Karen hates that song. So he yells at them, and Jody leaves, and he takes his seat. 

“Any progress at all?” he asks Sheila. 

“Well, she flicks her toes sometimes,” she responds. “But the doctor thinks it could just be reflexes.”

Lip can feel his throat tightening and he glances down at his lap, not meeting Sheila’s eyes. This must be hard on her, too. “I’m sorry,” he manages.

“Don’t be sorry,” Sheila says. “I’ve often thought Jody’s musical repertoire could use some updating.”

But it’s not that. The last words he spoke to Karen, he broke up with her. He told her she was no good for him, and the words before that were simply empty words, they didn’t mean anything. And the ones before _that_ were the angry voicemail he left her. So he’s sorry about that, about everything. 

“I don’t want that to be the last she heard from me,” he finishes with. 

“It won’t be,” Sheila reassures him. “We’re thinking positive. It makes a difference.” She gets up and walks over to kneel down in front of him. “She’s gonna wake up. And you didn’t make her sad, Lip. She was so happy when she got that text from you. She knew you were texting to make up. You should’ve seen her light up.”

That doesn't sit right with Lip. 

“Text?” He didn’t send her a text. 

“The night of the accident when she came to meet you,” Sheila explains. “I honestly think that she was so excited, she just forgot to look both ways.”

Lip feels cold dread sink into his bones. “Do you have Karen’s phone here?” he asks, and Sheila opens up the drawer in the dresser, showing him a bloody bad of her things. 

Sheila turns away as Lip opens up the bag and rifles through until he finds her phone. He flips it open, and there’s only one text, from him, yesterday. 

_Meet me at the park._

***

Jimmy’s going back to medical school. Fiona’s excited. He’s obviously not happy working as a barista, and they could use the extra money. Between him becoming a doctor, and her new office job selling cups, they could really move up the poverty ladder. Maybe get a better house. Maybe send a kid to college. 

He comes home from work one night, stressed and rethinking his decision, so she pulls down his shirt and kisses his neck and tells him it’s a great idea. 

“Oh, really?” he asks, turning around to face her. 

“Yeah,” she responds. “You’re smart-” she kisses the tip of his nose- “care about people-” she kisses his lips- “you’re a good person-” she kisses his cheek- “getting Carl braces, Debbie braces, taking care of Liam-” she kisses his lips again. “I like how much you care for all of us, even when you’re not getting much in return.” She gestures upstairs, where Debbie and Carl had just gone to bed. 

“Hey, I get plenty of it in return,” he growls. 

“I’ll support you all the way,” she tells him, pulling away to take Liam out of his high chair. 

“Good, because I’ll need it,” he says. “Plenty of work, plenty of hours.”

“So where would you go?” she asks. “University of Chicago?”

“Yeah, that could work. Still looking, though. Plenty of options,” he says. She picks up Liam and places him on her hip. 

“Hmm, Doctor Jimmy,” she says, glancing back at him and grinning. “Tell me _something_.”

The next evening, her work hosts their annual softball game, and they let her take her whole family. Well, minus Lip, because he’s still too worked up about Karen. But Ian and Mickey show up at the Gallagher house for spaghetti beforehand, and they let her hold Aileen. 

“Hi, Aileen, I missed you,” she coos to her niece, rubbing their noses together. Aileen giggles and grabs onto the sides of her face. 

“Alright, everyone grab your jackets, it might be cold, and I don’t wanna wait for you,” she says once everyone has finished up dinner. Debbie, Carl, Ian, and Mickey deposit their dishes in the sink, then make their ways into the living room, Debbie and Carl arguing. 

Jimmy comes in then, late from his job, and asks her how her work was. 

“It’s good,” she responds, trying to quickly wash the dishes. “It’s great, actually. I got invited to play softball tonight.”

Jimmy laughs. “You own a glove?”

“It’s Chicago-style softball, you don’t need a glove,” she says. 

“Look at you, trying to fit in.”

“I hope they keep me around for a while,” Fiona responds. “Come with? Should be fun. We could grab a drink after, you could meet everyone.” She dries her hands and pats his shoulder as she makes her way past him. 

“Hey, I may have to spend some more time in, uh, Michigan,” he says, and she whirls around, frowning. 

“What?”

“Med school. The admissions department called and said that I have to finish up there or I lose a bunch of credits.” Fiona feels her heart drop. “I can apply for schools here, but I’d basically have to start over and lose all the work I’ve done. Hey, it’s only for a year.” He starts to walk towards her, but she backs up. 

“I know it’s a bit of a fly in the ointment, but they’re being really cool, letting me re enroll.”

Fiona crosses her arms. “There’s no other option?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “No, not really.”

“What, not really or no?”

“No.”

Oh. “Wow. That’s… wow.”

“You can come with me,” Jimmy says, spreading his hands. 

“To Michigan?”

“It’s not that far.”

“What about the kids?” 

“Yeah, sure, if you want.”

“If I want?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course, them too.” He doesn’t sound very happy about it. 

Fiona turns away, and Jimmy starts blabbing on about doable details, and that’s too much information for her right now, so she turns away. 

She’s thankfully able to take her mind off it during the softball game, focusing on the game and her boss, Mike, who she has to admit, is pretty sexy. She’s sharing beers with her coworkers after the game, spirits high, when she sees Jimmy walking over, and her mood drops.

“How’s the game?” he asks. 

“Walk-off win,” she responds, walking past him. “I scored.” They pass each other, but Jimmy turns around and catches up with her. “You knew didn’t you,” she says. 

“Knew what?”

She closes her eyes for a brief second. “Michigan. You knew you were gonna have to move back from the beginning.”

“What? No.”

And then she can’t deal with him anymore. She whirls around, throwing up her hands. “Please don’t be the guy who lies,” she snaps. “Please! Don’t be that guy!”

“Yes. Probably. Uh- probably, for sure, yes.”

She rolls her eyes, turns back around and continues walking. “I’m tired, dude,” she sighs, but he calls her name and moves in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. “What?”

He presses his fingers into his eyelid and takes a while to compose himself. “I need a change,” he eventually says. 

“From me?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Clearly I only know what you decide to tell me when you want to decide to tell it to me.” First med school, now this?

“I love you,” he says firmly, stopping her when she tries to pass him. 

“Great,” she says, glancing at him. 

“Debbie needs braces. I’m making espressos, you’re selling cups. It’s a year.”

“Stop saying it like a year is nothing, like nothing can happen in a year. Like being away from each other for a year wouldn’t matter?”

“Other people do it!” Jimmy argues. 

“I’m tired,” she insists, and brushes past him. He lets her go. “I gotta get up early in the morning. Selling cups.”

“Fiona!” he says once more, and she turns around again. He places his hands on his hips and stares her down. “I’m gonna be a great doctor.”

“I’m not arguing that,” is all she can say. 

***

They’re eating dinner when the knock comes. It’s Colin who goes up and gets it, because he and Mickey are closest to the door, but he loses to Mickey in rock-paper-scissors. 

Ian’s trying to get Aileen to eat a piece of banana he’s holding when he hears Colin’s voice coming from the front door. 

“Who are you?”

He cranes his neck, trying to see who’s at the door, but he can’t see that far, so he gives up. “C’mon, you’ve had these mashed up before, it’s no different,” he tries with Aileen, but she just turns her head away, squeezing her eyes shut. Ian sighs. “Please?” Aileen still doesn't eat it. 

“Uh, guys,” Colin says then, moving into the dining room, but he’s not alone. There’s a woman with him. 

Even Ian can see that she’s stunningly beautiful, with heavy eye makeup and a slightly hooked nose and a low-cut shirt to expose her large cleavage. She stares around at all of them, her brows furrowed in a glare, as if they’re the ones who are interrupting her evening. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Mickey demands.

“I am Svetlana Yevgenevia,” the woman says, and Ian thinks for a moment that she just sneezed. She stares around at them some more, before asking. “You sons of Terry Milkovich?” She has a strong accent, and rolls her Rs, and Ian guesses she’s Russian. 

“Uh, yeah,” Iggy says slowly. 

“Not me,” Ian throws in helpfully. She turns her attention to him, narrowing her eyes, then glances at Mickey. 

“Where is your father?”

“Prison,” Mickey grunts out. “What’s it to you?”

She places a hand on her hip and tilts her head to the side, exposing her neck. “I am with his child,” she states. “I live here now.”

“Um- ex-fucking-cuse me?” Mickey sputters. “You can’t just come here, claiming Terry knocked you up and expect us to take you in!” He gets up, walking towards her, but she steps right up in his face. She’s nearly as tall as she is. 

“I have no place to go,” Svetlana snarls. “Baby won’t come for another 6 months. I have job, and I can give you favors if you need convincing.”

Ian raises an eyebrow when she thrusts her chest out at Mickey, and he understands what ‘favors’ she’s implying. Mickey understands too, because he snaps, “Yeah, try someone else. Not interested. How do we know that spawn’s really Terry’s, and how can we tell it’s really his?”

“I met Terry nearly two years ago, when he came to spa where I worked. Big, mean, stupid man, insisted on calling me ‘Laura.’ A year ago, he got thrown in jail, but he break out a few months ago and drug me. That is how I am with child.”

Mickey glances back at Ian, and raises an eyebrow. Ian shrugs. The timing works out perfectly- from when Terry broke out of prison to how far along in her pregnancy she is now. And not many random people would know the name of Mickey’s mother. 

Mickey turns back to her. “You said you have a job?”

She nods. “I work at spa. Give massages.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, I’m sure you do,” Mickey interrupts. 

“Not enough to support myself on my own, but I give you money, and in return, you let me live here.”

“Yeah, fat fucking chance, bitch,” Mickey starts, but Ian stands up and grabs his arm. 

“Mick,” he hisses out, throwing him a warning glance. Sure, it’d be one extra person in their house, but Svetlana said she would pay them, so it’d be an extra paycheck towards the bills. Mickey grits his teeth, clearly not wanting to let her stay with them. 

“Who are you?” Svetlana asks, turning to Ian. “You not Terry’s son?”

“Uh, no…” Ian lets go of Mickey’s arm and rubs the back of his neck. Svetlana glances down to where he had grabbed his arm, then glances over at Aileen. 

“You two do ass fuck?”

Ian and Mickey glance at each other. 

“I stay,” Svetlana demands. “I pay and look after baby and-” she gestures to Colin and Iggy “-give them favors. Deal?”

She gets up in Mickey’s face again, who swipes his thumb across his lip. “Alright, okay, fine,” he snaps. “You can stay.”

Svetlana looks down at him smugly, and Ian sighs. This should be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I couldn't help but introduce the queen Svetlana herself. Also, Ian's going to the army? 😶😶  
> Look for the next chapter up by Thursday!


	12. Order Room Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian’s pacing back and forth, upending the bottle down his throat.   
> “Listen-” Mickey starts, but Ian cuts him off.  
> “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”  
> “Calm your fucking tits, Gallagher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Don't get too pissy at me.

Ian’s cold when he wakes up. It takes him a few seconds to open his eyes and to rub the sleep out of them, and a few more seconds to realize why he’s so cold. Mickey took all the blankets. 

Ian lets out a huff and rolls onto his other side, trying to untangle his boyfriend without waking him up. Mickey must’ve rolled himself up, because there’s no way he could’ve gotten the blankets underneath him otherwise.

Unfortunately, he’s not so lucky, in either getting the blankets back, or not waking up Mickey, because Mickey lets out a moan and whispers, “Whaddya doing.”

“You’re hogging all the blankets, bitch.”

Mickey tugs them over his head. “Too fucking bad.”

“Mickey. I’m cold.”

He doesn’t respond, so Ian lets out a long sigh and shuffles as close as he can to Mickey, trying to leech off his body heat. As he presses his whole body against him, he lets out a groan as his half-hard dick brushes against Mickey. 

“You gonna do something with that?” Mickey asks, and Ian grins.

He forcefully tugs the blankets down and rolls Mickey over, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. Mickey gives him a lopsided smile, and he checks over his shoulder quickly on Aileen. She’s still asleep, so he continues. 

Ian tugs Mickey’s sleep pants to his knees and grabs his cock, rubbing his thumb into the slit and making Mickey’s back arch. He lowers his head down and takes his length in his mouth down to the hilt, swallowing to let his throat squeeze around him. 

Mickey curses and jerks his hips, his hand flying to Ian’s hair, gripping tight. Ian presses down Mickey’s hips, and he lets out an actual whine. Ian logs the sound away in his brain to tease him about later. He pulls back and swirls his tongue around the head, then pops off long enough to suck a finger into his mouth. 

He licks up the vein on the side of Mickey’s dick as he reaches down with his spitty hand, circling around Mickey’s entrance before pressing one finger inside. 

Mickey moans, then lifts one leg up, placing it on Ian’s shoulder. “Fuck, Ian,” he gasps. “More.”

Ian complies, sliding in his middle finger next and taking Mickey deep in his throat again. It’s a little dry, but Mickey doesn’t seem to mind, as he pants and drops his other leg open, exposing himself more to Ian. Ian drags his tongue down, lapping over Mickey’s balls then ever further down, pressing his face between Mickey’s bottom half and the mattress, licking over where his fingers are stuffed inside him. 

“Oh God,” Mickey moans, tossing his head back and tugging on Ian’s hair. A sharp pleasure shoots down from Ian’s scalp to his dick, and he rolls his hips down, trying to seek out friction against the bed as both his hands are busy right now. “Fuck, Ian, yes.”

It takes only a few more sucks to his dick and a few more pumps with his fingers before Mickey’s spilling into Ian, getting a mouthful of his salty cum. He pulls off Mickey and presses a wet kiss to the inside of his thigh. As soon as he’s done, Mickey takes his leg off Ian’s shoulder and grabs him, flipping them over. Ian grunts in surprise as his back hits the pillows and Mickey shimmies down his body, tugging sharply at his sweats. 

Ian lifts his hips to aid him and lets out a groan when Mickey leans down, dragging his tongue up the length of his dick. He teases him, rolling his balls in his hand as he licks him again, and Ian thinks he might go crazy if Mickey doesn't do something soon. 

“Mick, c’mon,” he huffs, but Mickey just grins up at him and rubs a hand on his hip. He presses a kiss to his tip, then _finally_ wraps his lips around him and starts to sink down. Ian stares at him as he manages to fit all that he can within his mouth, groaning at the sight of his stretched lips and the feeling of being encased in his warm, wet mouth. 

Mickey starts bobbing up and down, being careful to not go too deep, because he can’t deep throat like Ian can. His gag reflex is too strong and Ian’s too big, and as much as Ian would like to get there someday, he’s content where he is now, with almost all of his cock stuffed in Mickey’s mouth. 

Mickey plays with his balls, and little tingles of pleasure trickle up Ian’s spine. He can’t resist pumping his hips once, twice, and Mickey pulls off before he gags, shooting Ian a glare. 

“Sorry,” Ian says, grinning lazily. He’d like to fuck Mickey’s mouth, but won’t do it unless he wants it. They’ve done it once before, but Mickey had retched so hard afterwards Ian had literally thought he was going to throw up. So he’d backed off, but they’re still trying to slowly build up Mickey’s tolerance. 

Mickey sucks him down again, jerking what he couldn’t fit into his mouth, and Ian grasps the sheets, trying to hold off the urge to take over and fuck Mickey’s mouth hard at bay. 

He can’t help but babble the entire time, letting words about how good Mickey’s mouth feels and how hot he looks fall past his lips. They only seem to spur Mickey on more, and he hollows out his cheeks and hums around Ian’s dick. 

The vibrations that it sends through his body are too much for Ian, and he stammers out, “Shit, Mick, I’m close, so fucking close,” and then he’s cumming into Mickey’s mouth. Mickey swallows him down, then pulls off when he’s done and wipes the corner of his mouth where some of Ian’s cum had escaped. Ian collapses back down onto the bed and Mickey flops on top of him, their sweaty bodies sliding together.

“You still cold?” Mickey asks, and no, Ian isn’t. 

Thankfully, Aileen’s still asleep by the time they finally roll out of bed, so they use the bathroom first, showering together quickly to save water. Mickey brushes his teeth fast, then goes back into their bedroom to take care of Aileen. 

Ian runs a hand through his hair, staring at himself in the mirror. He’s letting it grow out for the winter, and it’s starting to get curly, but he knows he’ll have to get it cut when he goes to the army. If. He still knows there’s a slight chance he won’t end up going, and Mickey likes to remind him of it every day. 

First off, though, he needs to talk to Fiona about getting him emancipated. It’s been 2 weeks since he and Mickey talked about it, and he hasn’t found a good time to bring it up to Fiona. He’s 90% sure she’ll say yes- it’s no like he lives with her anymore. 

When he makes his way back into their bedroom, Mickey’s in the middle of changing Aileen, and glances over at him, gasping comically. 

“Is that Papa?” he coos out as he lifts Aileen’s rump up to get her pants on. 

Aileen turns her head to the side and grins, pointing at Ian. “Pa!”

Ian walks over and tickles her stomach while Mickey gets her socks on, distracting her and she hates things on her feet. “That’s right!” he says, and she burbles some incoherent string of consonants. 

She’s just starting to make connections between “Pa” and “Da” and Ian and Mickey. Originally, it just started out as her repeating the words they had said, but now she’s starting to point at them as she says their names, which means that even though she can’t come up with the words herself, she’s beginning to understand what they mean. It makes Ian’s heart threaten to burst out of her chest. 

She’ll be turning 1 in 3 weeks, and he’s not sure if he’s ready. She seems to be growing up so fast. He doesn’t want her to get older- he just wants her to stay an infant forever, so he can hold her in his arms and she can stare at him like he hung the moon. 

Like she’s doing right now, her mouth slightly open as if she’s in awe. Mickey finishes changing her and sits her up, and she raises her arms towards Ian. He picks her up, settling her on his hip as he leans his head down and presses their foreheads together. 

Svetlana’s making eggs when they move into the kitchen. It’s amazing how fast Ian’s grown used to her in just 2 weeks. She’s rather quiet and gives Mickey the money she makes at the “spa” and cooks them food and even looks after Aileen. Mickey had been solidly against that last part at first, but after a mishap at the Kash N’ Grab where he had to deal with two fighting customers and Aileen crying, he had finally caved. 

“Morning,” she says to them quickly. She’s already dressed for work- wearing a purple, faux fur jacket and heavy eyeliner. Colin’s seated already, cleaning his gun and spreading the parts all over the table. 

“Where’s Iggy?” Ian asks, lowering Aileen into her high chair and snapping the tray on. 

Colin shrugs. “Said he had to get up early to do work. I think they’re doing a big moving project.”

Ian makes sure Aileen is settled before he grabs her food from the fridge. Mickey and Svetlana are arguing over the amount of pepper Svetlana put in the eggs. 

“That’s way too fucking much, bitch!” Mickey snaps, but Svetlana just shrugs, ignoring him. 

“Eggs is boring and tasteless,” she replies. “Makes it more interesting.”

“Yeah, ‘cause now it’s fucking disgusting.”

“Fine, don’t eat.”

Mickey catches Ian’s gaze and rolls his eyes, and Ian has to suppress a smile. It’s no secret Mickey hates Svetlana. He told Ian it was fucking weird, looking at her and knowing she’s knocked up with his dad’s kid. If it had been Frank, Ian’s sure he would be acting the same way. Svetlana hates Mickey right back, and they’re in a sort of mutual, unspoken war where they try to make each other so pissed they can’t stand the other. Ian would find it entertaining if it didn’t leave Mickey in such a bad mood. 

“I have baby appointment today,” Svetlana says while they’re all sitting down and eating breakfast. Colin’s zoned out, staring at her boobs again with his mouth slightly open, and Mickey’s glaring daggers at his toast, so Ian responds. 

“Really? How far along are you now? Like, 3 months?”

She nods. “I can find out sex.”

“That’s cool,” Ian says, and Mickey mumbles, “Who gives a shit?”

Later, when they’re getting Aileen situated in her stroller (which proves itself to be very difficult this morning because she most definitely does not want to sit in it), Ian feels eyes on his head and glances over his shoulder. Svetlana’s staring at him, but when she catches his eye, she glances away and busies herself with cleaning the dishes. 

Ian shrugs it off and helps Mickey buckle Aileen in. Then as they make it out to the streets, Mickey loudly complaining about the cold, November weather, he glances back towards the house and sees Svetlana staring at them out the window before her face disappears. 

***

Maybe she overreacted when Jimmy told her he wanted to go back to medical school in Michigan. There are ways to make it work. The company she works at, World Wide Cup, has a branch not too far from his college, and the middle school there said Debbie and Carl can transfer mid-year. Lip and Ian she doesn’t have to worry about, because they’ll both have graduated by the time they need to move. 

She goes to her boss, Mike, during the day, her stupidly hot boss, and asks if there’s any positions opening up in Michigan. Then he invites her family to his family’s camping trip. 

Fiona pauses. 

This is a bad idea, because she has a boyfriend, but he looks good with his rolled-up sleeves and she says yes. 

When she tells Jimmy she’s been looking at houses for rent in Michigan online, he doesn’t respond. And when she says they were invited to a camping trip, he says he doesn’t like camping, but he’ll think about it, and then leaves for work. Fiona doesn’t think much of it- he’s been stressed with his job lately, as he’s never really had a legal one. 

At dinner, Jimmy’s phone rings in Liam’s hands, and she takes it from him, answering it. It’s his real estate agent, calling to say that she’s found a place for him in Michigan. When she asks how many bathrooms, the agent says it’s a studio apartment. 

“A studio?”

No. They all can’t fit in a studio. What is he thinking? He said they could all move to Michigan. Is he going to leave him?

Her heart thumps hard in her chest as she runs all the way to the coffee shop he works at and finds him behind the counter. 

He tries to make up some lame-ass excuse about putting a deposit down on the studio apartment before they talked about taking the whole family up there, and then she realizes. 

Jimmy never planned on taking them. He is leaving them.

She nearly hits herself with how stupid she’s been. He’s been backing away for a while now. Taking weird phone calls from his mother and then leaving, claiming it’s an “emergency.” Rushing through his words in their conversations like he can’t wait to stop talking to her. Hell, even when they have sex, he seems rushed, like he wants to be away from her as soon as possible. How had she not caught on?

Then he says something that stops her in her tracks. He never wanted her to become the legal guardian of her siblings. He wanted to sit down and talk about it. He yells at her, telling her everything in their relationship has been about her. He’s done so much shit for her, and even lived in her slum of a house. 

Tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, Fiona starts laughing in the middle of the street. “A slum?” she echos, and Jimmy has the brains not to respond. “You made me feel like I could depend on you and now it’s a slum?”

She shoves him, pushes him, tells him to go sleep in his studio, alone, and leaves. 

***

Mickey hates Svetlana. She’s dead-eyed and creeps Mickey out whenever he sees her. Not to mention she’s so very obviously banging Colin and has no intention of keeping it down, whatsoever. The fact that she’s knocked up with his father’s spawn makes it even worse. 

He hates Terry, so he hates her and he hates his half-sibling by extension. Ian tries to talk him out of it, saying that Terry raped her, that he should cut her some slack, blah, blah, blah, but she was the one who decided to keep the spawn _and_ demand housing out of Mickey, not Terry, so he can hate her all he wants. 

Not to mention she’s an illegal immigrant. He looked through her purse one day while she was in the shower, and found that she had no ID. He can’t wait to use her undocumented status against her to keep her in line. She may be silent, but he sees intelligence behind her eyes and he knows that she’s plotting against him all the time, just like he’s plotting against her. 

As it would turn out, she’s already one step ahead of him on her illegal immigrant status. 

She drops the bomb on them that night at dinner, when he’s trying to get Aileen to eat some broccoli that they were having. 

“I am undocumented,” she blurts out, and Aileen takes the opportunity of him freezing to slap the broccoli out of his fingers. 

“Well, we all fucking knew that,” Mickey snaps back. 

“Hmm,” she responds, turning her dead eyes to him. “If INS show up here, I will go back to Russia.”

“Not my fucking problem,” Mickey says, because it’s not, but Ian jabs him in the side with a finger anyway. 

“And if I go back to Russia, friend from work tells Terry’s friends about you.”

 _That_ has Mickey’s attention. He glances up at her, but she’s calmly eating her food as if she didn’t say anything. “What the fuck did you say?”

She glares at him and holds her gaze, making his skin prickle. “I tell friend that if I get taken away, she go to Terry’s friends and tell them where to find you and carrot boy,” she says, nodding at Ian. “They find you, and they hurt you.”

Mickey huffs a laugh. “Yeah, nice fucking try, you ain’t scaring me.”

“Her name Nakia,” Svetlana continues. “Get approached by man named Doug, asking her if she know Terry. She say no, but I do. Doug ask me where you are, say Terry told him to. I say I do not know where you are, but I tell Nakia to find him again if I get sent to Russia, he find you, he kill you. They snoop around work all day, won't be hard to find them.”

“Damn,” Colin draws out, and Ian shoots him a glare. 

Mickey’s stomach drops. “Why the fuck would you do that,” he demands. 

Svetlana lets her fork fall to a clatter on her plate. “Because I cannot go back to Russia. I live here, in America. I will raise baby in this house, and I will not get separated from him by INS because I marry you.”

Mickey blinks. “What?”

“What?” Ian asks, speaking up for the first time. He’s staring at Svetlana, his mouth slightly open. But she doesn’t look back at him- her gaze is locked on to Mickey’s. 

“I marry you, get INS off me, and in return, I get stupid men off your back… And I give $3,000 in Terry’s savings.”

***

Karen wakes up. 

And she has frontal lobe damage. 

Lip feels like he’s in a dream, like his head is 10 miles under water, and Mandy isn’t helping. She tries to seduce him when his head is filled with images of Karen’s bloodied face, and she keeps asking why she’s so important to him. 

Lip thinks it was Mandy who hit Karen with the car. 

It makes perfect sense. And he hates that it makes perfect sense. No one else was around his phone, and no one else would do such a thing like that. Only Mandy could’ve sent that text. And knowing she’s Mandy _Milkovich_ only makes him more sure. 

But still, he needs to test his theory. 

Mandy’s standing in his room, in nothing but a towel, fresh out of the shower, when he says, “You know, the dude who hit her probably doesn’t even have a scratch on him.”

Mandy stares at him for a second, then drops her towel, a smirk on her lips. Lip doesn’t want to fall prey to her, so he doesn’t react. When she sees that he’s not making any moves, her smile drops and she starts putting her shirt on. 

He tells Kev his suspicions, and Kev freaks out. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says. “Your current girlfriend ran over your ex-girlfriend with her car?” When he says yes, Kev continues. “Dude, you’re in DEFCON 1, you need to get the fuck out of there.”

“Tell me how!” Lip asks, because he’s honestly starting to get scared for his life. 

“Very… slowly…” Kev says. “You need to make her think it’s her idea. Keep your distance, because once they get behind the wheel, there’s no going back.”

When Lip tells Kev he has an excuse to be distant- because he’s at Karen’s a lot, Kev freaks out again. 

“You can’t tell her that shit!” he explodes. “That’s like waving the flag in front of the bull! Hide the car keys, stop showering, and you tell her _nothing._ And whatever you do, do not, Lip-” Lip glances into his eyes “- do not let her bone you.”

He takes Kev’s advice, and hides at the Jackson house all day. Jody comes home with Karen late at night, when Lip had been putting up decorations on the staircase. 

Karen still has a broken arm and a broken leg, and her face is still bruised, and she’s deathly skinny. 

“Hi, Lip,” she says to him, and he smiles because she still remembers him. Then she plays with the strings on her hoodie, pulling one far away from her body, and jumping when it snaps back. She stares at the tip, more interested in a piece of fabric than her mother or Lip. 

Her eyes are wide and she talks like a little kid, and Lip hates it.

He hates that Mandy has reduced Karen to a simple shell of the firecracker girl she used to be. 

“What did Doctor Ron say about this?” Lip asks, when Karen declares “Good night!” in the middle of a conversation and falls asleep on the couch. 

“Well, she still has most of her old memories, she just can’t form new ones,” Jody explains. 

“When’s it go away?”

“Everyone’s different, you know. Could be permanent, but I say we keep hope alive.”

Lip doesn’t have any hope left. And he hates Mandy for doing this to her. 

As soon as he sees Fiona, Debbie, and Liam off to their camping trip with Fiona’s boss’s family, Mandy pounces. 

“We haven’t had sex in over a week,” she points out, and Lip’s heart skips a beat because this is exactly what Kev warned him against. 

“Yeah, I’ve, uh, been a little distracted,” he says, taking a bite of his cheerios. She looks him up and down, then up and down again, then slaps the bowl out of his hands. 

“What the fuck?!” he yells, and she kneels down on the group right there, grabbing onto his dick. “Hey!” he protests, trying to back away, but she follows him, and he backs up right into the fridge and now she’s mouthing at his dick through his boxers, and it feels nice, but Kev’s words are running around in his head. 

“Whatever you do, do not, do not, _do not,_ let her bone you.”

He slides down to the ground, and she sits on his lap heavily, panting into his ear. “You belong here, with me. Not with that fucking vegetable.”

And then he has no doubt in his mind that Mandy Milkovich hit Karen Jackson with her car. 

***

Mickey had said yes. 

Well actually, he had said “what the fuck ever,” but same fucking thing. And she had said, “Okay, tomorrow, city hall.”

And that was that. 

Ian had been fuming for the rest of dinner, and as soon as he’s finished eating, he stands up, throwing his chair back, grabs a beer from the fridge and stalks outside, slamming the door behind him. Mickey glances at Colin, who raises his eyebrows at him. 

“Fuck you,” he says to Svetlana, then follows Ian outside. 

Ian’s pacing back and forth, upending the bottle down his throat. 

“Listen-” Mickey starts, but Ian cuts him off. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Calm your fucking tits, Gallagher.”

“Oh, what I’m not allowed to be pissed because my boyfriend is seriously considering marrying someone who screws guys for a living?!”

“Who gives a shit, it’s a fucking piece of paper!” Mickey throws back, because it is. 

“Not to me,” Ian says, his voice breaking. He shakes his head and turns away, taking another sip of beer. 

“Hey, c’mon, look,” Mickey says, grabbing Ian’s hand, trying to get him to talk to him. “Just because I’m getting hitched doesn’t mean we’re not still together, okay? You and Aileen are my family, not her.”

“If you give half a shit about me-” Ian starts, moving towards Mickey quickly, and he places a hand on his chest to stop him in his tracks. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, quietly. 

“Because maybe I’m tired of my dad, okay?” Mickey replies. “Maybe I’m tired of always looking over my shoulder, fearing for my life, wondering what he’s going to do next. Maybe I just wanna marry this bitch to get her off my fucking back. ‘Cause if I don’t, we have no fucking idea what could happen to us. What could happen to Aileen.”

Ian shakes his head and finishes the beer, tossing it to the side. 

“I love _you,_ okay?” Mickey presses. Ian needs to understand, he’s doing it for them. Marriage doesn’t even fucking matter. “I don’t even like her, she’s a bitch.”

“Say that again,” Ian demands, turning towards him, his jaw clenching. 

“Say what again?”

“That you love me.” He walks towards Mickey, his eyes dark and piercing. 

“I love _you_ , Ian,” Mickey repeats. “Only you.”

Ian fucking _growls_ at that, and it sends shivers down Mickey’s spine, and the next thing he knows, he’s lunging forward, grabbing onto the back of Ian’s neck and slotting their lips together. Ian grabs onto his waist, kissing him back hard, and makes him walk backwards until he’s shoved up against the chain link fence. Ian’s hands paw at his jacket, and he gets the memo and strips it off while Ian tugs off his own jacket. 

They’re thrown carelessly on the ground as Ian pushes and pulls at him until he’s turned around, his hands bracing himself against the fence. Arousal is curling in Mickey’s stomach because _holy fuck, is Ian going to fuck him against a goddamn fence?_

“Only me,” Ian pants out into his ear as he unbuttons Mickey’s pants himself and tugs them down, his hand squeezing his dick briefly before he grabs the waistband of his boxers and slides them down, too.

“ _Only_ me,” he growls and unbuttons his own jeans, pushing them down far enough to just get his dick out. His words and his tone send shockwaves down Mickey’s spine and suddenly Ian shoves a finger up his ass, already slick and wet with lube. 

“Jesus,” Mickey huffs, jumping at the cold penetration. “Where the fuck did you get the lube?”

“Had it in my pocket,” Ian grunts out, and adds a second finger almost immediately. It burns, but it burns so good, so Mickey moans and spreads his legs more, pushing his ass back for Ian. 

Ian adds a third finger and pumps them in and out of Mickey’s body, spreading them wide and then removes them quickly, slicking himself up and pressing into Mickey. Mickey lets him, even though he could be prepped more, because he knows Ian needs this. Ian immediately attacks his neck, fucking biting his skin and sucking and licking and-

“You’re mine, don’t you get it?” Ian groans. “You and Aileen are _mine_.”

“Course,” Mickey pants out as Ian rails him into the fence. “Course we’re yours. Nobody’s else’s, Ian.”

But Ian doesn’t stop. He continues spewing utter _filth_ about how he owns Mickey’s ass, how his dick and his balls and his lips and his hole are all _his_ , how Svetlana doesn’t even get to think about them. His grip is bruising on Mickey’s hips, but Mickey doesn’t care as Ian sucks a dark hickey onto the side of his neck, intent on letting other people know Mickey’s is Ian’s. 

And fuck if it doesn’t spur Mickey on like anything else. He wraps a hand around his own dick, since Ian doesn’t seem interested in doing it himself, and jerks himself off in time with Ian’s thrusts. The force of his hips are practically shoving Mickey into the fence. 

Ian pulls out before he comes, because they don’t have a condom and can’t risk Mickey getting knocked up again, and spurts his release messily over the ground as Mickey jerks off on the fence. He’ll have to wash away the cum later. Then Ian’s spinning Mickey around again, smashing their lips together and pressing their bodies so close Mickey thinks he’s trying to merge them. 

“God damn, Gallagher,” Mickey slurs when Ian pulls back, still a little fucked-out. “I gotta get you pissed off more often.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Ian asks, a smile playing at the edges of his lips as they tug up their pants. “We gonna tell her to fuck off?”

“Nah,” Mickey responds, grabbing his jacket from the ground. “I’ll just get it over with tomorrow.”

Ian frowns at him, picking up his own jacket. “You’re not seriously going through with this, are you?” he demands. 

“Why you acting like I got a choice in this?” Mickey asks, confused. Didn’t he just tell Ian he was his?

“This is bullshit,” Ian says. “Listen to me, Mickey.” He grabs onto his arms, making him stay still with the intensity of his gaze. “Your dad is an evil, psychotic prick!” His voice raises with each word. “You’re just gonna let him ruin our lives?”

“You need to grow the fuck up!” Mickey snaps back at him. Ian isn’t the only one who’s upset with these events, but they need to happen. “Don’t act like you know a thing about my dad.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ian shouts. “Who was the one who called the ambulance for your unconscious body, huh? I’m not gonna let you ruin our family!” 

“Ruin our family?” Mickey echos. “I’m doing this _for_ our family! Don’t you get it? If I say no to Svetlana, she tells Terry’s friends, and they find us, and they kill us. Both of us. Aileen. This isn’t something that we can just hide from. They will be on us for the rest of our fucking lives. They’re trained fucking professionals, they’re not just a drunk guy who broke out of prison. They have guns, big guns, and they aren’t afraid to shoot our daughter in the fucking face, point blank!” 

Ian looks taken back. But then he shakes himself and shouts back, “But you’ll be marrying her, Mickey! Don’t you get how serious marriage is?”

“Look, she probably won’t be around for that long, anyway,” Mickey throws back. “Good thing there’s divorce.”

“Divorce?” Ian burts out. “You shouldn’t need to divorce her, because you shouldn’t even need to marry her in the first place! The only person you should be marrying is me!”

Mickey freezes. “What did you just say?”

Ian stammers over his words, trying to correct himself. “Well, I-I mean, not right now, I mean, we don’t have to, shit, I-”

But Mickey isn’t listening. Ian wants to marry him? Since when? Who the fuck wants to marry Mickey Milkovich? Besides an illegal Russian whore, that is. 

“Ian,” he says gently when his boyfriend is still stammering, and he shuts his mouth immediately. “This marriage means nothing. _Nothing._ I’m just sick and tired of my dad fucking ruining my life, and I just want to live in peace with you and Aileen. Just because the law is going to say we’re married doesn't mean I have to sleep in the same bed with her, that I have to fuck her, that I have to spend any longer with her than I want to, okay? You’re my family, not her.”

Ian’s shoulders sag. He takes a step forward, holding his arms up slightly, and Mickey lets him crowd against him, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, running his hands up and down his back. Ian holds onto Mickey as if he’s afraid that if he doesn't, Mickey will disappear. He lets Ian tuck his head into his shoulder, but then their sweet moment is interrupted by Colin poking his head out the back door. 

“Uh… your baby’s crying,” he says. 

Sure enough, Aileen’s bawling at the top of her lungs when they make their way back into the kitchen. Mickey isn’t sure how long they’ve been gone. Ian immediately makes a beeline over to her, picking her up and bouncing her gently, making shushing noises. 

Svetlana’s still seated at the table, her arms crossed over her chest, staring at Mickey. 

Mickey glares right back at her. “If I agree to marry you, it won’t mean shit,” he tells her. 

“Okay,” she says. 

“I won’t be with you, I won’t care about you.”

“Fine.”

He glances over at Ian and Aileen. “We’ll just be legally married, we won’t be a family. I don’t even like you,” he adds. 

Svetlana leans forward. “I don’t like you, either, ass boy,” she replies. 

Mickey nods, and glances back at Ian again. He doesn’t look happy, but he does look less murderous. 

***

Mickey texts her to say that he’s getting married to Svetlana, the Russian whore that’s been living in his house who apparently is knocked up by their dad. To say that Mandy is surprised is an understatement, but this isn’t even the wildest shit he’s done. He explains it to her, saying that she threatened to tell Terry’s friends about his and Ian’s whereabouts, and that he couldn’t risk their or Aileen’s safety, and asks her to be a witness when they go down to the courthouse tomorrow, because Ian had been flat out refusing to go. 

She had called Ian immediately after, and he had been less than thrilled about the whole thing, but apparently had reluctantly agreed. So now she’s got to deal with her brother’s shit as well as her own. 

Her own shit being she’s beginning to think Lip suspects that she ran over Karen Jackson. All signs point to yes, he’s on her, but instead of him being thankful like she thought, he’s pissed. She doesn’t understand men at all. 

She puts on the only fancy dress she owns the morning of Micky’s shotgun wedding, and is coming down the stairs of the Gallagher house when she hears Lip’s voice coming from the toilet. Everyone else left to go on a camping trip, so it’s just them in the house. 

“You okay in there?” she asks, leaning against the door. 

“Yeah,” he responds. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m just, uh, a little backed up.”

“For 45 minutes?” she laughs. 

“Yup.”

“Can I get you anything?” she asks. 

“No, please, I’m… great, okay? I’m fine. Thank you.”

He clearly just doesn't want to talk to her. So she turns around and leans her back up against the bathroom door and says, “I hate my dress. I look like a drag queen. Do you think Fiona would mind if I borrowed one of hers?”

“Yes!” Lip says. 

“She’d mind, or she’d let me?” Mandy asks. 

“Mind,” he says, sounding annoyed. Then Mandy gets angry, and opens the door. He isn’t even on the toilet. He’s sitting with the seat down, his pants on.

“Jesus!” he bursts out, standing up. “Barge right in, why don’t you?”

“What’s going on?” she demands, and he just stares at her. She has a sinking feeling in her gut that she knows exactly what’s going on. 

“I’ve got a lot of stuff on my mind,” he says, spreading his hands. 

“You can’t talk to me about it?”

“No.” He shrugs. 

She stares at him. And stares more. “You know what,” she says eventually. “I don’t want to see you today,” and then slams the door on him. 

Mickey’s wedding is over in 5 minutes. They sign the papers, and she signs in the witness spot, and when the lady behind the desk at city hall says they can kiss, they don’t and refuse to even look at each other. Mandy goes over to her house after. Ian’s eyes are slightly red, and his jaw is clenched, and he seems to be burning holes in the back of Svetlana’s back. 

“I thought you didn’t mind her,” Mandy says to him in an undertone. 

“I didn’t, until she married my fucking boyfriend,” he bites back.

“I go to work now,” Svetlana declares. 

“Please, go, the fuck do I care?” Mickey snaps at her. She glares at him, then leaves. 

“Jesus, you guys are a shit show,” Mandy tells them. 

“Thanks,” Ian replies. “Um, do you think you could watch Aileen for a little bit?”

Mandy glances between them, Mickey biting his lip and looking everywhere but her, and she says, “Sure.” Let them fuck out their frustrations. 

They escape to their room, and Mandy picks up Aileen from her bouncer seat, walking over to the couch and sitting down. She holds her niece up by her armpits, and bends down so that she sets Aileen on the floor, letting her rest her weight on her legs.

“Lip’s a fucking prick,” she tells her, “After all the shit I did for him, I even got rid of fucking Karen!- and he still doesn't see it.”

Aileen babbles and waves her arms around, concentrating on putting one leg in front of the other as Mandy guides her forward. 

“I mean, we’ve been together for a year now. But he was with Karen before me. But he only got together with me because Karen was with Jody, and- shit.” She realizes what she is to Lip as she takes one hand away, only holding Aileen up the other one as she stands up by herself. “I’m just a rebound, aren’t I? A fucking rebound because he was too sad over Karen but still needed his dick sucked. He didn’t care about me.” She should be hurt, but instead all she feels is anger. She takes away her other hand, and Aileen squeals as she wobbles a little bit on her uncoordinated legs. Mandy lets out a laugh. “You know what, fuck him.”

“Agh!” Aileen agrees, waving her fists in the air and takes a step forward. 

“I don’t need him. I can find someone else. Right, Aileen?”

She scoops her niece up and twirls her around in the air, and she squeals again. “I’ll find someone else.”

And she does. 

His name is Kenyatta, and she meets him at a club, then drags him home. He’s a good distraction, because he looks absolutely nothing like Lip. Tall, ripped, and dark, but still an aggressive fucker. She’s still in her drag queen dress when she swallows him down after he finger bangs her. Later, she offers him a beer and they move out into the kitchen. 

He doesn’t talk a lot, and she likes that. But he watches her. She can feel his heavy gaze on her as she grabs him a beer from the fridge, and she likes that, too. 

Then the door knocks, and she goes and answers it, because Ian and Mickey are in their room with the door shut and she does _not_ want to interrupt them, and Svetlana has her door shut, too, and Colin and Iggy are who the fuck knows where. 

It’s Lip. 

He doesn't hesitate to step into her house, and grab her by her arms. She’s so pissed that she laughs in his face and tries to kiss him. “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

But he rips away from her and digs his fingernails into her forearms. “You ruined Karen’s life!” he yells. “You’re a jealous, demented cunt, Mandy! Seriously! Alright, we’re done!”

She rips herself out of his grasp, feeling like she can’t breathe. So he finally figured it out. “I did it for you, you prick,” she spits. “I did everything for you, but you’re so fucking blind! You know what, don’t sweat it, we were done before you got here.” She glances over her shoulder at Kenyatte, who moved up behind her, and grabs onto his shirt. “This is Kenyatta,” she says to Lip. “I just swallowed his load.” She lets go of the other guy and moves towards Lip, licking her lips. “Can you taste it?”

Lip looks disgusted and shakes his head. “You know what, fuck you, Mandy,” he spits out. “Fuck you. Don’t talk to me again.” 

And with that, he turns around and stops down the porch stairs, and is gone into the night. 

She watches him leave, then turns around and tilts her head at Kenyatta. “You gonna fuck me and make me forget about him?” she asks, and Kenyatta smirks. 

***

He did it. He got married. To a woman. 

Ian didn’t go to the ceremony. He couldn’t. He had gotten married at city hall, just signing papers, but he still couldn’t go. He made Mandy go as a witness instead of him. 

He had stayed home, hugging Aileen close to his chest even as she protested and wriggled, wanting to crawl and play. And he cried. 

He knows Mickey’s right- he knows this marriage doesn't mean shit, that he and Ian and Aileen are still a family, Svetlana not included, but Ian can’t help it. 

He wanted Mickey to be his first. And he knows it’s stupid, as if they’ll be together that long (but he hopes, _god,_ does he hope) or that they’ll even want to get married in the future. But they already have a daughter together, so why shouldn’t they? 

But he understands. He knows that Mickey’s sick of being afraid of Terry, and he is too, and he married Svetlana so that she wouldn’t tell Terry’s Nazi friends and they could all live happily ever after. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. 

When he asked, well technically, yelled at, Svetlana why she couldn’t marry someone else, she responded with, “Other brothers too stupid,” and Ian wasn’t going to argue there. 

The only good thing is that the wedding is over in less than half an hour, and Mickey comes back looking no less grumpy than when he left. Ian’s blood is boiling and he doesn't know what emotions he’s feeling right now, so he asks Mandy to watch Aileen and takes Mickey into their room and fucks him into the mattress hard, making him remember that he’s Ian’s, and nobody else’s. 

When he wakes up the next morning to find Mickey wrapped up in his arms, he relaxes a little bit. Maybe he overreacted. Nothing’s changed about their relationship- they’re still boyfriends and parents, just $3,000 richer (Svetlana kept good on her promise to give them Terry’s savings that she found in the basement) and with one of them married. 

When his alarm starts ringing, he slaps it off and lets out a groan. “Don’t wanna go to school.”

“Don’t wanna go to work,” Mickey sighs back. He rolls over so that they’re face to face and stares at Ian, giving him a lopsided grin. 

Ian leans forward and presses a kiss against his lips, curling his hand around the back of his head. “I love you,” he says against his mouth. 

“Love you too,” Mickey replies, and Ian goes in for another kiss, but Mickey pulls back. “Brush your teeth before you kiss me again.”

He throws the blankets off him as he stands up and grabs a discarded pair of jeans on the floor. Ian sits up and rubs the sleep out his eyes, shivering slightly in the morning air. 

“Can you take care of Aileen?” Mickey asks. “I need to piss, bad.”

“Sure,” Ian responds as Mickey leaves the room for the bathroom. Aileen’s standing up in her crib, holding onto the bars and grinning toothily at him. 

“Morning, princess,” he coos, getting up and taking her out of her crib. He lays her down on the dresser immediately and changes her diaper, wiping her bottom and sliding a new one up her legs. She starts to whimper and holds her arms out to him, wanting to be picked up again. “I know, I know, hold on,” he mutters, grabbing gray pants from a drawer for her and putting them over her sleeping onesies. “All set!” he coos and picks her up, hugging her against his chest. 

He presses a kiss to her cheek, and she giggles, clinging onto his tank. He moves over to the closet and lets Aileen pick out his clothes, grabbing whatever t-shirt her fingers latch on to. 

He sets her down on the bed while he changes, and gives her one of her teethers to play with. The worst part of teething is over now, as she’s grown in her front 8 teeth, which are the most painful, and they’re just waiting on her molars to come in. He’s putting on a belt when Mickey finally comes back in from the bathroom and immediately starts cooing over Aileen. 

“Took you long enough,” Ian says. 

“Yeah, Colin was in there forever,” Mickey responds. “I think the fucker has diarrhea or some shit.”

“Fuck!” 

Both Ian and Mickey freeze and slowly turn towards their daughter. 

“What did you say?” Ian says, his eyebrows raising. 

“Fuck!” Aileen repeats, waving her arms in the air, and giggles. 

Mickey lets out a laugh, and Ian can’t believe this. Their daughter just said her first real word, other than “Da” and “Pa,” and it’s a swear word. 

“Mickey, this isn’t funny,” he groans out. 

“Are you kidding me, this is hilarious!” Mickey laughs. “Say fuck again, Aileen.”

“Fuck!”

“No, Aileen, no,” Ian tries to tell her. “Do not say that word. No.”

“No!” 

He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

“Fuck!” 

Mickey’s full on laughing right now, hunching over and grabbing at his stomach. But Ian isn’t. Aileen’s first word is “fuck?” Seriously? 

“No,” he tries again, bending down, trying to get her to understand. “You can’t say that.”

“Fuck. No,” Aileen says, Ian gives up, covering his face with his hands. 

“I think that’s worse,” he sighs. 

***

She knew going to the camping trip was a bad idea, especially with her hot boss. But Debbie and Liam have a blast while she sits underneath a tree with Mike and gets tipsy. They talk. She realizes she likes him. Maybe more than Jimmy. At least, as of late. 

Then he invites her to his tent, and she kisses him. And he kisses her. 

But then when they get to his tent, get to the shirt-off, heavy grinding part, she freaks. Because she’s still dating Jimmy. And as much as she hates him right now, and as much as he wants to leave her, they’re still together. She can’t fuck her boss. 

But the fact that Mike understands is 10 times worse. 

“You’re using me for revenge,” he says, and she covers her mouth. 

“Am I?”

“I’m not saying that I mind,” Mike continues, shaking his head. “I do _not_ mind, I just recognize the impulse.”

And suddenly, everything comes spilling out. “He was planning on going to Michigan without me. He acted like he was going to take all of us, but… it’s not even the first time that he’s lied! I close my stupid eyes to it, because I wanted it to work so bad.” Her voice squeaks, and tears threaten to spill. 

“Your eyes aren’t stupid,” Mike says. 

Fiona huffs. “I’m an idiot.”

“Just because someone dumps on you does not mean you deserve it,” he tells her firmly. 

He lets her leave the tent, and she sits by the campfire, smoking and alone. She feels… sorry, guilty. Guilty that she screamed at Jimmy. He’s right. Moving the whole family seems like too much of a hassle. It’s only one year. They can make long distance work. 

She takes her phone out of her pocket and calls him, and it goes straight to his voicemail- “Hey, it’s Steve, leave some words.”

“Hey,” she says, smiling. “It’s me… 4 kids at med school, what was I thinking? And you’re right, we live in a slum. It’s a 4 hour train ride. It’s nothing. We can make this work. We have to. I love you,” she adds, still smiling. Hopeful. It feels good to make things right. 

Of course, the message never reaches him, as his phone’s at the bottom of Lake Michigan, and he’s on a boat, on his way to Brazil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know: the whole Svetlana marrying Mickey thing does not become a big deal. I only put it in because it's canon, and I wanted to write Svetlana in, but I felt like she wouldn't feel "connected" to them without it. Don't worry too much about it. :) 
> 
> As always, comments are kudos are my crack!
> 
> Aaaaannnnddd I'm feeling very very hopeful for 11x05.


	13. Survival of the Fittest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to enlist!” he declares as soon as he steps foot through the door, because he doesn’t want to chicken out.   
> There’s only one other person in there, some guy pouring coffee over by the Marines booth.   
> “Glad to hear it,” he says. “You interested in active duty or army reserves?”  
> 3.12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah!!! Last chapter!!!  
> Before we get started- I know ya'll are going to be on me about the whole army thing, but just know that's it's a pretty big part of Ian's story, and leads to a lot of different things, so I couldn't not include it. And I mean, look how well it worked out in canon. :)  
> Also, yaaaaayyy we finally get Ian smiling because of Mickey in 11x05! Props to Liam for shooting Terry.

For Aileen’s first birthday, they go over to the Gallagher house and throw a party. She absolutely loves it, giggling and soaking up all the attention from her aunts and uncles as she’s passed around the arms of the whole Gallagher family . She gets a shitton of gifts too- toys and clothes and fluffy, white boots from Fiona that Mickey has a hunch are designer. 

She has her first bite of cake, which Ian hates because “Jesus, Mickey, she’s going to be on a fucking sugar high for the next week!” But life is too short not to live it to the fullest, so he lets Aileen suck some frosting off the edge of his finger. She loves it, and tries to grab some from Ian’s plate, but he holds it out of her reach. 

It’s the day after her first birthday when she takes her first steps by herself. Mickey had been on one side of the living room, calling Ian about what brand of soap he should buy as he was going shopping, and Aileen had been on the other side, playing with the new xylophone toy Kev and V had gotten her, and all of a sudden she had pulled herself to her feet with help from the couch and toddled slowly over to Mickey. 

“Holy fuck, Ian!” he had said into the phone. “She’s just fucking walked over to me! On her own!”

It seems kind of fucking insane, that just a year ago, she had been snuggled into his arms, completely helpless, dependent on him for everything, and now she can walk around on her own, she can say his and Ian’s names (and the word fuck), and she’s so fucking big already. It makes Mickey- fuck, it makes him tear up a little bit, becuase he _misses_ it. He misses knowing that he's needed so much, he misses when Aileen was inside of him and he could carry her everywhere with him. 

It makes this throat close up, knowing that she’s only getting bigger and bigger and she won’t need him anymore. But for now, he holds onto her tightly and presses a kiss to her head and tucks her against his chest. 

Svetlana had kept good on her deal of not ratting them out to Terry. Some days, it’s easy to forget that they’re even married. Mickey and her don’t see each other a lot during the day- between work and then retreating to their own separate rooms, and it’s not like they talk to each other at dinner. They both do their own thing, and Mickey’s more than fine with it. 

A week later it’s Thanksgiving, and they go back to the Gallagher house. Last Thanksgiving, Aileen had been just a day old and Monica had tried to kill herself. This Thanksgiving seems a little reserved, as if everyone’s remembering what had happened last year, but they still have fun and break out good wine that Fiona’s been saving for a while. 

Before Ian and Mickey leave, laden down with leftovers, they take Fiona aside and ask her to get Ian emancipated. She’s sad at first, then angry, then asks, “What the fuck, Ian? It’s 6 months! Can’t you wait?”

“Yeah, but I wanna be able to get a good job,” he explains. “Provide more for Aileen.”

She stares at him for a while, and even Mickey can see the love for his daughter in his eyes. Eventually, she lets out a sigh and agrees. “We’ll look into court dates next month, okay? What kinda job do you want to get, anyway?”

Ian pauses, chewing on his lip before he answers. “Well, I was kinda thinking of joining the army.”

Fiona’s eyebrows shoot up. “What the hell? The army? Ian, that’s 4 years!” 

“There’s a program I can do,” Ian says hurriedly. “I’d only be away for 2 years at a time, and I can call and write whenever I want.” He glances over at Mickey. “It’d work.”

Fiona turns to Mickey. “And you’re cool with this?”

Honestly, no. Mickey’s going to miss the hell out of Ian- miss his goofy smile, his dumb jokes, his voice when he coos at Aileen, when he’s sex-drunk, when he wakes up, and yes, he’ll miss his dick, but he understands that Ian needs to do this. He’s wanted to join the army ever since he was a little kid- this will be like his dream come true. And Ian’s right- he wouldn’t amount to much if he stayed, he would always feel useless, hopeless. Not to mention the pay in the army would be worth it. 

But he doesn’t want to say all of that to Fiona, so he shrugs his shoulders and says, “It is what it is.”

She protests some more, but eventually decides to go along with it, demanding a call each week from him. She also agrees not to tell the rest of their siblings, as Ian doesn’t want to burden them with the thought of him leaving. 

When they go to bed that night, Mickey curls up against Ian, tucking his head underneath his chin and drawing circles on his torso. He likes the way it feels, Ian wrapped around him, above him, making everything else in the world disappear. 

“I’ll miss you,” he whispers. Ian strokes a hand through his hair, and it’s comforting. 

“I know.”

A week later, they get a court date. December 6th. It’s a Friday. Mickey gets out of work early and makes his way over to the court with Aileen, meeting Fiona and Ian there. Everything goes by smoothly. The judge is clearly tired and bored, and they have good points as to why Ian should be emancipated- he has a daughter, he lives away from Fiona, he’s graduating school before he turns 18, one of Aileen’s parents is already an adult. It takes less than 10 minutes, and then Ian’s an adult. 

“Now I can legally fuck you,” Mickey says when they get home that night, after partying with the Gallaghers. He gently sets a sleeping Aileen in her crib, and Ian wraps his arms around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder as they both stare down at their daughter. 

“The age of consent in Illinois is 16, dumbass,” Ian responds, and Mickey turns his head, letting Ian capture his lips. 

***

They plan for after Christmas, meaning that Ian has just over 3 weeks. He’s not sure if he’s ready. But then again, he’s so fucking excited. He finally gets to live out his dream he’s had since he was a little kid. Well, one of his two dreams. The second one being starting a family, which he’s already done. 

He tries to spend as much time with Aileen before he has to leave. He and Mickey start reading to her from books that had once been Liam’s. They try to stick to a schedule of one book each night (or every other night) to get into a routine. They all sit on their bed, with Aileen in between Ian and Mickey, propped up with pillows, while either of them read to her baby books that are about what sounds animals make or different types of clouds. 

Ian’s favorite thing is when Mickey reads, and his voice goes impossible soft and his mouth twitches up at the corners, and Ian just gets to watch him while Aileen nods off between them. Some nights, their reading puts her to sleep, and other nights she’s more interested in trying to eat the pages than go to bed, but Ian savors every single second of it. 

She’s getting better at walking- toddling around the house clumsily with her arms held out to balance her, and even though she face plants a few times, she always has a smile on her face. It makes Ian sad, knowing that he’ll probably miss a bunch of her milestones, but he thinks that at least he was her for her first words and her first steps. She’s beginning to call Ian and Mickey “Pa” and “Da” on her own now, as well as just talking more in general. She babbles on and on to herself, as if she’s having a conversation, like she’s doing right now, letting random streams of vowels flow from her mouth as she’s trying to stack colorful rings on a pole. 

Mickey’s still at work at the Kash N’ Grab, he’s been staying later more, helping Linda run numbers as she prepares to close up the store and move on with her life, and Mandy and Ian are in the living room after school, watching over Aileen. 

Mandy’s back to living at the Milkovich house. She and Lip have officially broken up, and she has a new boyfriend now. Kenyatta. He’s tall and big but quiet, and Ian supposes he isn’t the worst boyfriend Mandy’s had- he puts his dish in the dishwasher, at least, and even helped Ian clean up when Aileen dumped her cheerios all over the floor. 

“So, you’re seriously going to the army?” Mandy asks, tucking her feet underneath her as she leans up against the couch. 

“Yeah,” Ian responds. “For 2 years, then I’m home for a year and a half.” They watch Aileen for a moment, as she scoots over to grab another toy. 

“Mickey agree to it?” 

“Not really,” Ian says honestly. “But he knows it’ll be better money.”

Mandy studies him for a moment, and he knows she wants to say something about how he shouldn’t go, so he grabs the gray beanie she’s wearing and plops it on his own head. 

“How do I look?” he asks, posing. Mandy laughs, then whips out her phone and aims it at him. He lets her take a picture of him, holding his middle finger up to the camera for the hell of it. 

“You look like me,” Mandy says, grinning. 

“Yeah, all I’ll need is a nose ring, a boob job and fuck-me jeans.”

Mandy shoves at his shoulder, and he laughs. “Fuck you, my jeans are fine.”

“Uh-huh, sure, whatever you say.”

“Pa!” 

Ian glances over to where Aileen’s holding out a wooden block for him, and he takes it from her hand. 

“Thank you, princess.”

Satisfied, she turns back to her toys and starts hitting her xylophone.

He must have a stupid look on his face, because Mandy knocks her shoulder against his and says, “I never thought I’d see you like this.”

He turns to her. “Like what?” 

She gestures to Aileen. “Like, in dad mode. You love her so much, it’s rotting my teeth.”

“Sorry to your dentist.”

Mandy’s silent for a moment. “Never thought I’d see Mickey like that, either,” she says after a while. 

Ian hums. “Sometimes even I’m surprised.”

Mandy rests her head against his shoulder. “It’s nice, though. I had never really thought he could do anything with his life, that he would just be thrown in prison before he would turn 20 and would spend the rest of his years in there, but now he has Aileen. And you.”

“Yeah,” Ian agrees. “Yeah, he does.”

The weeks fly by too quickly, and before Ian knows it, it’s his graduation day. And Lip’s, for that matter. It’s weird that they’re both graduating on the same day, even though Lip’s a year and 2 months older, but he had had to repeat a semester because of his expulsion last year when he thought Karen Jackson was having his baby. 

It’s almost sadly anticlimactic, they just get the pieces of paper from the guidance office. Lip’s clearly less excited about it than Ian. Maybe because he has no idea what he’s going to do after school, whereas Ian knows exactly. Lip had told him about how Mandy had applied to colleges for him, and about his MIT interview, and about how he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go to college, but everyone and their mother wanted him to. 

When he brings home to his diploma, Mickey’s waiting for him, eyes soft, holding Aileen on his hip. He pulls Ian down by his jacket and slots their lips together, and Ian’s heart beats faster. He likes the look on Mickey’s face. Like he’s happy for him. Like he’s proud of him. 

Ian fucks Mickey later that night. That’s another thing he’s been trying to do as much as possible. It doesn't matter if it’s just a blowjob in the shower, or a handjob before they get out of bed, Ian tries to savor the feel of Mickey’s skin against his before he doesn't get to see him for 6 months. He knows he’s going to hate it, and is going to suffer with just his hand. 

They’ve talked about Ian’s relationships while he’s at the army, and he’s done his best to reassure Mickey that he won’t be fucking anyone else while he’s there, but he can still see the doubt in Mickey’s eyes, and it hurts him. It hurts him to know that Mickey’s had too many people leave him before, that he's had his trust broken too many times. He vows to never be one of the ones to break it. 

***

Lip spends the hour after he graduates high school at the Alibi. He had said bye to Ian, who was going back to the Milkovich house, and took a seat at the bar, not too far from Frank. Frank was drinking, as usual, and things had ended in a push-up contest which Frank had won. Lip knows he should hate him, he knows he should despise him, but he’s a little bit tipsy and just made a shitton of money off of the bets, so he agrees to go with Frank to some sort of fancy ass restaurant. They order lobster and steak and nice wine, and Lip thinks it’s nice. 

“We don’t spend enough time together,” Frank says, leaning over his slab of beef. 

“No, we don’t spend any time together,” Lip replies. 

“Exactly my point! You know, son, you can always come to me.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Lip replies. 

“I worry about you,” Frank continues, nodding. 

“That right?” Lip asks, laughing. Frank makes up some bullshit about parent’s plight, then asks if he wants any wisdom. Because the day couldn’t get any weirder, Lip goes for it. 

“I’m done with school. I have no idea what I’m going to do today or tomorrow or for the rest of my life,” he says honestly. 

“So, no plans?” Frank asks. 

“No.”

“Good for you,” he responds, his face splitting into a grin. “You’re just like me. We march to the beat of a different drummer. Everyone will try to cage you in, tell you have to worry about your future. You know what your future should be? This.” He gestures around to the meal they’re eating. “Live every day like it’s your last.”

And shit, that’s pretty good advice. So Lip smiles and takes a sip of his wine. They chat someone, then when Frank goes to pay the bill, Lip stops him. Why should they have to pay for this ridiculously expensive shit? So they dine and dash, Lip taking the front and claiming he has a call, and Frank going out the back, asking for a bathroom. 

It’s the most fun Lip’s had in a while. Between worrying about Karen, who’s now on her way to Jody’s family in Arizona to get some hippie brain healing, to worry about what next crazy shit Mandy might pull, to worrying about school, he’s had no time to relax. But now he has, with fucking Frank, no less. 

They end up at a skating rink, and it’s jam-packed and freezing cold, but Lip still can’t keep the smile off his face. They’re both terrible ice skaters, and he’s listening to his dad’s random-ass stories and laughing, and everything’s fine, but then they start going in circles around the rink, and it’s beginning to hurt Lip’s eyes and churn his stomach, so he leans on the side of the rink and pukes up lobster on the ice. 

Then Frank vomits up blood and collapses. 

***

It’s been 5 weeks. 5 weeks and no Jimmy. 

He hadn’t even called, hadn’t even left a fucking voicemail. It was just nothing. Radio silence. Fiona’s getting tired of it.

“Hey, Fiona,” Debbie says on the last day before Christmas break, coming up behind her while she’s putting on lipstick. 

“Why aren’t you getting ready for school?” Fiona asks. 

Debbie looks down at herself. She’s wearing an old hoodie and a worn pair of jeans. “I am ready. We only have a half day anyway. I’m gonna stop by Sheila’s after. Karen and Jody are moving today.”

Fiona glances down at her leg, and sees that her nylons are torn. She sighs, and gives Debbie an “Oh,” moving into her room to try and find her other pair. 

But Debbie’s not done. “So you think Jimmy’s still gonna get braces when he’s done with med school?” she asks as Fiona strips off her ripped tights. 

“Jimmy can’t always be the answer to our problems, Debbie.”

“Everything okay with you guys?”

Fiona does _not_ want to talk about this. “What?” Her nylons aren’t in her dresser. 

“Lip said we’re not moving to Michigan.”

“Lip should mind his own business,” she throws at Debbie, crossing her room to check in 

her bedside table. 

“It is his business,” Debbie replies. They’re not in there either. “If we move to Michigan or not.” Maybe they’re in the bathroom. “It’s all of our business.”

She finds her nylons hanging on the shower curtain rack, and rips then down, then turns to Debbie. “School. Now.”

“But you didn’t answer me. Are we or are we not moving to Michigan?”

“I don’t know!” Fiona finally explodes. “Okay? I don’t know.” Then she feels bad because she just screamed at her sister, so she adds, “And I promise you, you will be the first person I tell when I do know.”

Debbie leaves for school, and Fiona calls Jimmy again, and it, once again, goes to voicemail. 

“Seriously?” she bursts out when it beeps. “I leave you thousands of messages saying I wanna work it out, and you don’t even call me back? Okay, fine, I get it. You obviously don’t feel the same way. Fine. But at _least_ have the decency to tell me, okay? 2 years, I think I deserve that. Have a good life. Fucking asshole!” she finishes with, and hangs up. 

She can’t focus at work, so she calls Jimmy again and leaves another voicemail, trying not to be so angry. She tries to make it hopeful, forgiving, praying that he’ll call back. 

He doesn’t. 

So she finds his father, Ned, after work, at his hospital. 

“I’m surprised to see you,” he tells her. “Are you feeling okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.”

He tells her he’s on his way to get lunch, so she follows him to the food truck outside. 

“How’s Ian?” he asks, to break the silence. 

She glances at him. He’s still caught up over her brother, who’s in a serious relationship? “Fine,” she says quickly. Then, “I was wondering if you’d seen Jimmy lately?”

Ned nods as if he understands. “How long?”

“Almost 5 weeks.”

“Were you two having problems?”

She shrugs. “Things have been a little rough lately, yeah.”

“Any sign of conflict, of things not going his way, and he just-” snap “- disappears,” Ned says. He orders them both hotdogs, then turns back to her. “It’s what he does. I’ve gotten used to it. At least, as used as a father can when his son doesn’t call or email for months at a time.”

“Maybe this time’s different?” Fiona tries, smiling. Ned hands her her hotdog. 

“Absolutely,” he says, and she likes the sound of that. “You never know, right?”

That’s what she’s going to believe, anyway. 

She’s walking back home when a man starts following her, and her heart beats a little faster. She’s frantically trying to open up the gate to the Gallagher house when he holds out an envelope to her, saying, “He wanted you to have this.”

“Who?” she asks. “The hell is that?”

“Man who lived here,” he says in a thick accent, maybe Spanish. “With you.”

“Jimmy?” she gasps, grabbing the envelope from him and peering inside. It’s full of cash. She glances back up at the man, but he’s walking away, back to his car. She runs after him, demanding to know where Jimmy is and if he said anything else. 

“Yes,” the man replies. “He said you were too good for him. He has moved on. Now so must you.” And with that, he drives off. 

Then she gets a call from Lip, who’s in the hospital with Frank, who’s apparently been throwing up blood. She meets her father and her brother, who’s so drunk he’s throwing up, and she realizes something. 

Frank doesn't give two shits about his kids to stop drinking. 

So she gets up and leaves him in his hospital bed with red circles underneath his eyes. She breaks down and starts crying when she’s outside. 

***

That night, Fiona throws Ian and Lip, who just returned home severely hung over, a graduation party, complete with a huge cake with sparklers. They blow it out together, and Fiona frames their diplomas. The look in Mickey’s eyes makes Ian’s stomach swoop. 

He’s proud. He loves that Ian’s done this. 

And Ian loves that he can make him look like that. 

So the two days later, he dresses in his ROTC uniform (Mickey can’t resist pouncing on him after he had put the jacket on and blowing him), and heads down to the recruiting station.

“I want to enlist!” he declares as soon as he steps foot through the door, because he doesn’t want to chicken out. 

There’s only one other person in there, some guy pouring coffee over by the Marines booth. 

“Glad to hear it,” he says. “You interested in active duty or army reserves?”

“Your active/reserve program,” Ian responds, taking off his hat. “The 6 year one.”

“Family man, huh?” the man responds, moving over to the army booth and sitting down behind it with his coffee. “I’d be happy to help you find a specialty, let you know when they’re classing up.”

Ian follows him, setting his cap down on the table. “I don’t wanna wait for a specialty, I’m ready to leave now.” He knows that if he doesn't do this _right now,_ he never will, and he needs to do it. 

“Any reason why you’re seeking out the army?” the man asks. “Trouble at home, running away from jail, or your girlfriend?”

“Here’s my transcript,” he says, avoiding the question and handing out the piece of paper to him. The other man takes it. “I already passed the vocational, aptitude, battery, and physical exams. When’s the next bus to basic combat training?”

“Next Thursday morning,” the man responds. 

Oh. That’s a little too soon. Ian had been hoping it to be closer to New Year’s, not the day after Christmas, but he supposes he’ll have to take it. “What else do I need?” he asks. 

“Photo ID.” The man hands him back his transcript, and he takes it.

“I’ll be there,” he promises, grabbing his hat and shoving his transcript back in his bag. 

“Hey, take some time to think on it,” the man calls after him. 

“I’m ready now,” Ian says simply before he leaves. Because he is. He knows he’ll never get another opportunity. 

He stops by the Gallagher house after, because he left a few things there that he’ll need. It’s almost nostalgic, because he used to spend 16 years old his life sleeping in the big bedroom on his tiny twin bed, and now he doesn't even live in the house anymore. Carl’s under the loft bed, which he took up after Lip moved into Fiona’s old room, reading comics when makes his way into the room. 

“What are you doing?” Carl asks as he grabs his thermo blanket from the closet. 

“Just forgot a few things over here,” he responds, not wanting to dive into details. Carl probably won’t understand why he’s leaving anyway. “Hey, where’s my knife?”

He turns to Carl, who buries his head in his comic and says, “I don’t know.”

Ian knows he does. “Carl. My SOG Seal Team. It’s the best fixed blade I got.”

Carl lets out a long-suffering sigh and closes his magazine, standing up. “My samurai sword broke,” he says as he lifts up the mattress of the loft bed. “I need a backup ‘till it’s fixed.” He slides Ian’s knife out from underneath the mattress and turns, handing it to him. 

“Yeah…” Ian sighs, taking it from him. He turns around and shoves it in his bag, but Carl protests. 

“What if the zombie apocalypse goes down? Who’s going to protect Debbie and Liam?”

Ian glances over at Carl, then makes up his mind, pressing the flat of the knife into Carl’s chest. “Fine, keep it.” He can get another one at basic, anyway. 

The look on Carl’s face is worth it. His mouth splits into a grin and he wraps his hands around the knife. “Really?” 

“Just promise you’re not going to use it on anything human.”

“Cats aren’t human.”

“Anything _living._ Promise.” Carl takes the knife out of its sheath and holds it up like it’s a golden idol, and Ian hopes he isn’t aiding the next serial killer. 

“Promise,” Carl says quickly. “Can you teach me the different hand grips?”

Ian doesn’t want to tell Carl he won’t see him for the next 2 years. It’s bad enough that he’ll be apart from Mickey and Aileen, he doesn’t want to think about his siblings. “Sure,” he says before his throat can close up. 

“Thanks,” Carl says, nodding at him, and leaves the room, probably to annoy Debbie. Ian watches him leave, then turns back and continues gathering up his shit. 

He starts packing back at the Milkovich house, throwing stuff he won't need between now and the time he leaves in the bag first. He's grabbing an extra can of spray deodorant when he feels a presence behind him, and glances over his shoulder. 

It's Svetlana. 

She's leaning against the doorway to his and Mickey's room, her arms crossed, wearing a tight shirt that shows her 6-month pregnant stomach. 

"You leave? You go to army?" she asks in her thick Russian accent. 

Ian nods. He doesn't want to talk to her. 

"You leave boyfriend?"

"No, I'm not leaving Mickey," Ian spits. He would fucking never. 

"Good," she says. She's silent for a moment, staring at him, and he stares back. This is a challenge, and he's determined to win. "No more hate," she says after a while. 

Ian blinks, not expecting that. "What?"

"No more hate," she repeats. "Between you, me, and boyfriend. Marriage means nothing. No need to hate me because I marry boyfriend."

"I have every reason to hate you for that," Ian says, turning his back on her to continue packing.

"I do not even like penis," Svetlana declares, and Ian pauses. What? Isn't she a whore? "It is disgusting and men think they can do whatever their stupid heads decide because of it. You can have penis all for yourself, and I can have pussy all for myself."

Ian turns around again to stare at her. "You're gay?" he blurts out. 

"Hmm, gay, I have child, I survive, we are more alike than you think," she responds. 

Something isn't adding up in Ian's head. "But… you're shacking up with Colin. And you're a prostitute."

"Like I say, I do what I can to survive, and that is how I do it. You? You try to survive by going to army, killing bad guys. So, no more hate. Deal?" Then she holds out her hand to him. Ian's shocked, but he takes it, and they shake. 

She steps back quickly like he's burned her. "Good," she says. "I go to work now. See girlfriend. You see boyfriend later, yes?"

He nods, and she leaves. Ian stares at the empty space she's left behind. So Svetlana's gay. Well, that works for him. 

***

Mandy likes to tell herself she’s moved on. She’s with Kenyatta now. He doesn't talk a whole lot, but he’s nice, he doesn’t get annoyed with her. Now that she’s not living at the Gallagher house anymore, she gets to spend more time with Aileen, who she decides is the cutest human being ever. Her hair’s starting to grow long, as Mickey and Ian have stopped cutting it short, and Mandy was actually able to put it in pigtails the other day. 

The Milkovich house is getting packed with the addition of Svetlana and Kenyatta. Iggy got picked up by the police a few days ago, as the small, start-up cartel he worked for got busted. Each bedroom is full to the brim with at least two people- Mandy and Kenyatta in the front one, then Colin and Svetlana (apparently they’re sleeping together? When did that happen?), then Mickey, Ian, and Aileen in the last one. 

The mornings are the worst, when 6 people all get up at the same time and all have to use the bathroom. She’s waiting for Colin to be done now so she can take a shower, watching dumb cartoons with Mickey and Ian. When someone knocks on the door, she’s the one who gets up and answers it because she’s so fucking bored. 

Mandy had managed to get Lip out of her head for at least 5 hours, focusing on other, mindless shit, so she’s surprised when she opens the front door and finds him standing on the sidewalk. 

“Hey,” he says, as if nothing’s wrong. She twists her fingers together. “Hi, um…” he trails off, staring at her. She stares back. Wondering what he’s doing here. “I got into MIT,” he says eventually. 

_Oh._

“It’s a full ride,” Lip continues. “Anyway, it wouldn’t have happened without you.” She can feel her lips trying to tick up into a smile, and she pushes it down. Waiting. “So… thank you.” 

_There it is._

He’s walking away and it starts snowing, big, fat flakes drifting down from the sky. His thank you has set a warmth blooming in her chest, and she can’t let him leave without knowing one thing. 

“Are you gonna go?” Mandy calls after him, and he slows down, and turns around. He doesn’t answer, just raises his hands and shrugs. 

That’s good enough for her. 

She goes back into the house, taking her seat next to Mickey. 

“Who was that?” Ian asks. 

“Lip,” she replies. “He got into college.”

***

Fiona gets promoted at work, and they throw a party for her. Mike congratulates her, and she can’t help but grin back at him. She has a real job now. Ian’s emancipated, about to go into the army, and Lip got into college. And it’s snowing. Looks like they’ll have a white Christmas after all. 

She’s in front of the Gallagher house, having just gotten off the L, and stops in front of the gate, resetting her hand on the fence and staring into the window, where she can see the shapes of Debbie and Carl maybe dancing, maybe fighting. 

She doesn't go in yet, because there’s still something she needs to do. A loose end she still needs to tie. She grabs her phone and crosses the street to give herself some privacy, punching in the number she has memorized by now. 

“ _It’s Steve, leave some words.”_

She smiles because it’ll probably be the last time she hears his voice, and she wants to savor it. 

“Last message, I promise. Wherever you are, bye.”

And just like that, one word, three letters, it’s a whole weight lifted off her chest. 

_Bye._

He was good, but all good things come to an end. Now she gets to start something new. Maybe with Mike, who knows? She glances up at the sky, into the falling snow, then crosses the street and goes into the warmth of the Gallagher house. 

***

There’s snow on the ground the week of Christmas, and Mickey would hate it, if not for the giant-ass jacket Ian got him as an early Christmas present. It’s warm as fuck, and he swears he sees Ian’s eyes light up whenever he slides it on to go outside.

On Christmas Eve, they take Aileen sledding for the first time. Ian’s against it at first, because “She’s still just a baby, Mick! What if she falls?” but then only agrees to it if Aileen’s sitting on his lap. He ends up enjoying it in the end, when Mickey dumps snow down his jacket and he tackles him into the ground. 

If they go to a Northside mall to get a picture of Aileen with a mall Santa, that’s nobody’s business but their own. 

On Christmas day, Mandy and Ian make pancakes from a mix that Mandy stole, and make them into weird shapes. Aileen fucking _loves_ pancakes, Mickey finds out, as she finishes the tiny one Ian made for her in under and minute and is already trying to grab the ones from Mickey’s plate, leaning over dangerously in her high chair. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he says to her, pushing her to sit upright, then distracts her with a sippy cup full of milk. 

They open presents, and Mickey has to admit, it’s not as homey as Christmas last year, but he’s going to savor every single second he gets with Ian before he leaves tomorrow. Ian and Mickey get Aileen a hooded elephant blanket, and Mandy gets her one of those toys that makes different animal noises that Mickey knows is going to drive him insane. Colin gets her candy, which she’s too young to have, but it’s the thought that counts. 

Svetlana doesn't get them anything, and they don’t get her anything, and she watches from the couch, holding a steaming cup of coffee. Whatever. Mickey hates her anyway. 

He and Ian head over to the Gallagher house for lunch, and they play dumb games and watch even dumber movies, but Mickey loves it. A little bit of normal before his life is ruined for the next 6 months. They make snowmen, and Mickey’s looks the best if he does say so himself, and Ian tries to teach Aileen how to make snow angels, but she never catches on. 

That night, Ian fucks him for the last time. He’s on his back, legs wrapped around Ian’s waist, as Ian rolls his hips, his cock pressing deep and slow into him, and Mickey never wants it to end. 

“I love you,” he pants out, wrapping his arms around Ian’s neck. 

“I love you, too,” Ian grunts back, and leans down and slots their lips together. They kiss messily, tangling their tongues together, but Mickey doesn’t care one bit. Ian runs a hand up his chest, brushing against his sensitive nipples, and he moans, rolling his hips down to meet Ian’s lazy thrusts. 

He comes before Ian does, clenching around his cock and moaning, low and long. Ian holds him after, wrapping him up his arms and hugging him against his chest, and Mickey almost doesn’t want him to, because he knows he’ll only miss him more. 

The next morning, dread curls in Mickey’s stomach. This is it. This is Ian leaving them. 

“I’m not leaving you, Mick,” Ian says when he catches sight of Mickey’s face. “You’ll see me again in 6 months. And I’ll write and call and shit.”

“You better fucking write every day,” Mickey grumbles, crossing his arms as he watches Ian change and dress Aileen for the day in a thick pair of leggings and a sweater. 

“Every day,” Ian promises, picking Aileen up and settling her on his hip. “And calls once a week.”

“Twice a week.”

“Okay, Mick,” Ian says, grinning.

“This is a dumbass fucking move,” Mickey blurts out, because it is. 

Ian fixes him with his gaze, and Mickey feels it piercing straight to his heart. “You gonna tell me not to go?” It’s almost like Ian regrets signing up. Almost. 

“Yeah, right, like I’m gonna chase after you like some bitch?” he spits out. Aileen babbles then, playing with Ian’s earlobe. 

Ian doesn’t respond, just glances down at the floor. Hesitant. But no. Ian needs to do this. This has been his dream since he was a little kid. And he’s right- if he stays, he won’t amount to much. He needs to do this for Aileen. For Mickey. 

“Don’t…” Mickey starts, then trails off. 

“Don’t what?” Ian asks, his gaze bearing into Mickey’s. 

“Don’t forget about us,” he manages out, but his throat closes up at the last word. 

Ian’s shoulders drop and he smiles, walking over and bringing his hand up to rest if on the side of Mickey’s head. 

“Mick,” he says firmly. “I would never forget about you.”

“You won’t fuck other guys?”

“Of _course_ I won’t fuck other guys.”

Mickey swallows hard, and drops his gaze. 

“Mickey. I love you.”

He glances up at his boyfriend, his _partner,_ who’s smiling softly at him and holding their daughter, and he rests their foreheads together, standing on his toes a little. “I love you too,” he says back. 

Ian eats a quick breakfast, then grabs his bag and ID, and kisses Mickey and Aileen one last time, and says bye to Mandy and Colin and even Svetlana, and then he’s gone, walking off the porch, down the sidewalk, glancing back and throwing a grin and one last wave at Mickey. Then he turns a corner and is gone. 

Mickey hugs Aileen a little tighter, but it’s because the wind has picked up. 

He doesn't know how long he stands there, still watching, waiting, but eventually Mandy joins him. 

“Hey,” she says quietly. “It’ll be fine. He’ll write. And call.”

“Fuck you, bitch, I know he will,” Mickey says back, but without any heat. 

“Here,” Mandy says then, and hands something to Mickey.

It’s a picture. Of Ian. He’s wearing one of Mandy’s beanies, the gray one, and is staring down the camera, flipping it off, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Mickey doesn’t even know when it was taken. 

“Thanks,” he says to Mandy, and she nods, then goes back inside. Mickey holds out the drawing for Aileen to see, and she points at it with one hand, chewing on the fingers of her other one. 

“That’s Papa,” Mickey says to her. “He’s in the army right now. Fighting bad guys. He’s doing great things, and so will you, kid.”

***

Ian’s on an old bus, heading to Kentucky, pressed up against a total stranger on the tiny seats. His hand finds his jacket pocket and he digs around until he withdraws a crumpled up photo. He unfolds it. 

It’s a picture of Mickey, sitting in the Milkovich living room, holding Aileen on his lap, reading to her.

He smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your comments and kudos! It really means so much! I hope everyone enjoyed, and I'll be posting season 4 in about 2 weeks, so hang tight 'till then. :)
> 
> Side note: for this series, I'm trying to stay in canon as much as possible, but just with a baby, so if you're not really looking for that, I would recommend not reading the rest of the series. 🤗🤗


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